The Grand Ellipse Part 34

A pale submerged luminescence was moving along the Ygah, making its way north against the current. The radiant cloud wavered beneath the water, its pure light dulled and colored by the muddy ripples of the river.

"It looks like a ghost," she marveled.

"It is, of sorts. That's the River Phantom." In answer to her mute inquiry he explained, "A school of zephusa fish, native to the Ygah and seen nowhere else in the world. I've read of such fish and their ghostly light in the water, but never imagined that I'd actually see it."

He was smiling, much the same sort of smile that had marked his first glimpse of Lanthi Ume rising out of the sea. She was smiling herself, and the thought came unbidden, If only it could always be like this. If only it could always be like this.

A tiny pinp.r.i.c.k broke the trance. A high-pitched humming filled her ears. She slapped reflexively, squashed the target, and saw her own blood mingled with insect remains smear across her wrist. A grunt of disgust escaped her.

Twilight. The Hour of the Mosquitoes.

"They're eating me alive!" she complained. "Why do they seem to single me out?"

"Discriminating palates," Girays approved heartlessly.

"Oh, laugh all you please, but you wouldn't find it quite so funny if you were the one covered with itchy red lumps that you didn't dare scratch. The captain recommended dosing myself with marukinutu. marukinutu. I'm almost desperate enough to try it. What do you think?" I'm almost desperate enough to try it. What do you think?"

"Let me be certain that I understand you. You are asking for my advice?"

"I don't promise to follow it."

"Good, that rea.s.sures me that I am confronting the real Luzelle, and no subst.i.tute. Here's my opinion, then. Stay away from the marukinutu. marukinutu. It's addictive, and its efficacy as an insect repellent remains unproved. I wouldn't be inclined to accept Jhiv-Huze's word on the subject-in all probability he's simply seeking a companion in debauchery." It's addictive, and its efficacy as an insect repellent remains unproved. I wouldn't be inclined to accept Jhiv-Huze's word on the subject-in all probability he's simply seeking a companion in debauchery."

"Sometimes you sound very like my father."

"Who could not have been wrong one hundred percent of the time, but that's another day's debate. I've a vial of Urq's Universal Unguent in my valise. Take it, apply some to the bug bites, and see if it helps. I believe Jhiv-Huze intends to dock briefly tomorrow at Pijji Camp, and you may find that the Ygahris there can furnish native concoctions far more effective than anything offered elsewhere."

"All right, I'll try it."

"Did I hear you correctly? Where did all this sweet complaisance spring from? You detest my suggestions. You enjoy nothing more than the satisfaction of rejecting them."

"No, not at all. Well-" She thought a moment and amended, "Maybe that was somewhat true when I was nineteen. A little little true. But years have pa.s.sed since then, and some things do change. I'll prove it. Have you any more advice to offer, if I ask?" true. But years have pa.s.sed since then, and some things do change. I'll prove it. Have you any more advice to offer, if I ask?"

"The fund is inexhaustible. What's the subject?"

"An awkward one. Tonight, you see..." She stirred uncomfortably and forced herself to continue. "Everyone other than the captain sleeps in the main cabin. I suppose I could manage that, if only it weren't for that boy, that Oonuvu-"

"What, the little Ygahri stoker? A trifle. He won't be there. For that matter, neither will I. You shall not lack privacy."

"Girays, I couldn't turn you out of the cabin to sleep on deck, it wouldn't be fair. I appreciate the gallantry, but-"

"The matter is not open to discussion. I'll do well enough, never fear. As for the stoker, do you imagine that I-or any other Vonahrishman of honor-could actually permit you to share sleeping accommodations with a male native? The notion is absurd."

"Permit?"

"Oh, I know the word annoys you, and perhaps it was ill chosen. But I trust that your modern pa.s.sion for independence doesn't blind you to the simple reality of the matter. I would not allow the Ygahri boy to intrude upon any Vonahrishwoman, much less you."

"Perhaps M. the Marquis would be so good as to explain the relevance of nationality?"

"The explanation is self-evident. Will you pretend otherwise?"

"But we poor mortals do not all share in His Lordship's ability to simplify. His judgments are based upon the broadest possible generalizations, the creakiest prejudices, and these suffice. Vonahrishwoman. Ygahri boy. That's all he needs to know."

"Self-righteousness hardly becomes you. Bare moments ago, you yourself were complaining of this troublesome native."

"You didn't think to ask why. It never even occurred to you that I might have some specific objection beyond the mere fact of his race."

"You need none."

"That's unfair, that's narrow, that's"-she groped for an adjective likely to dent his complacency and found one-"irrational."

"Instruct me, then. Describe the countless virtues and achievements of the Nine Blessed Tribes. Remind me of the great Ygahri contributions to art, literature, architecture, science, law, and philosophy. Somehow they have slipped my mind."

"Oh, sometimes there's no talking to you!"

"Your speech seems unimpaired, but I'll try to make it easier. Explain the stoker's offense, if you will."

"Well, he rifled my belongings."

"Little brute steal anything?"

"I believe not, but the bare thought of him touching my things-" She grimaced.

"Inquisitive as monkeys, some of these natives."

"Girays-!"

"No disrespect intended. Monkeys are very engaging creatures. Has he done anything else?"

"Not exactly. He stares at me-"

"Understandable. Can't really blame him for that."

"I don't like the look in his eyes, or the way he uses his hands."

"Has he touched you?" Girays's face hardened.

"No, he only touches himself. Not what you're thinking, nothing so obvious. And once he licked-well, never mind. The point is, I can't abide him."

"You won't need to. I've already promised that you'll have the cabin to yourself. I'll make my wishes known to little Oonuvu, and if he proves uncooperative, I'll whip him b.l.o.o.d.y."

"You wouldn't. You're too civilized and too decent."

"You didn't think it was in me to carry a gun, as I recall."

"Well then, how do you plan to make your wishes known to little Oonuvu, unless you happen to speak Ygahri? Anyway, better take care. Damage his stoker, and the captain is likely to put us both off his boat."

"Then I'll pay the captain to keep Oonuvu out of the cabin. Better?"

"Much. But if anyone pays Jhiv-Huze, it ought to be me."

"Let us balance accounts some other time. For the present I prefer to watch the sunset and swat mosquitoes."

THE BLIND CRIPPLE BLIND CRIPPLE DROPPED ANCHOR DROPPED ANCHOR for the night. Dinner, prepared by the captain himself, followed shortly thereafter. A tiny drop-leaf table, hinged to the galley wall and supported by a rickety gateleg, barely accommodated the four diners. The lamplight was feeble and shaky, the atmosphere motionless and malodorous. Winged things flitted about the closet-sized s.p.a.ce, while the occasional nimble dark form scuttled across the floor. for the night. Dinner, prepared by the captain himself, followed shortly thereafter. A tiny drop-leaf table, hinged to the galley wall and supported by a rickety gateleg, barely accommodated the four diners. The lamplight was feeble and shaky, the atmosphere motionless and malodorous. Winged things flitted about the closet-sized s.p.a.ce, while the occasional nimble dark form scuttled across the floor.

Luzelle studied the green mold growing in the cracks between the boards of the tabletop for a few moments, then averted her eyes. A bowl of food was placed before her-a stew of some sort, dense and oily. And venerable, she noted at first bite; probably heated and reheated half a dozen times. She ate mechanically, without allowing herself to taste. No water to rinse her mouth clean-the local water was lethal to foreigners. There was weak beer and potent greenish xussi, the locally distilled liquor. She drank sparingly of the former.

At least she did not have to manufacture conversation, and neither did Girays, for Captain Jhiv-Huze's store of river anecdotes was limitless and his willingness to relate them equally so. The ba.s.s voice boomed interminably, the flow of words interrupting itself periodically as the speaker paused to refresh himself with drafts of xussi. Time pa.s.sed, the greenish spirits flowed, and the voice slurred but never ceased. At first the tales possessed a certain freshness, but as the alcohol took hold, Jhiv-Huze waxed vague, digressive, and repet.i.tive.

Luzelle's attention wandered. She tried not to think about the food before her, the way it looked or smelled or tasted. She tried not to think about Oonuvu, whose black eyes glittered through the curtain of his black hair, as he matched his captain draft for greenish draft. She tried not to think about five days or more of the same. Far better to think of Jumo Towne, where civilization and its amenities resumed. Decent hotels. A bath. Good food. Clean clothes. Dry Dry clothes. Her own garments were still damp from the rain, and likely to remain so, for nothing ever dried thoroughly in this climate. Her st.u.r.dy walking shoes were wet, and so were her feet inside them. She would have to switch over to sandals before her well-soaked flesh began to soften, allowing potentially disastrous sores to open. clothes. Her own garments were still damp from the rain, and likely to remain so, for nothing ever dried thoroughly in this climate. Her st.u.r.dy walking shoes were wet, and so were her feet inside them. She would have to switch over to sandals before her well-soaked flesh began to soften, allowing potentially disastrous sores to open.

Beside her Girays sat enviably cool and at ease in his light khakis. And he, known to rebuke his own chef at Belfaireau for the sin of overcooking a fresh brook trout by the s.p.a.ce of ninety seconds, now spooned his questionably edible stew without visible reluctance. How did he do it? The captain's voice ran on, and her thoughts ranged.

Dinner concluded when Jhiv-Huze pushed his bowl aside, laid his head down on the table before him, and went to sleep. Oonuvu rose and slid noiselessly from the galley.

Luzelle shot a dubious glance at Girays. He shrugged. Together they rose and returned to the deck, where they lingered for a time watching the stars. Moonlight glanced tremulously off the ripples of the river, but the forests crowding the banks drowned in deepest shadow. Out of the blackness issued a cry, a stabbing wail of ultimate grief.

"What was that?" Luzelle felt the hairs stir at the back of her neck.

"Hunter or hunted." Girays spoke almost in a whisper.

They stood listening, but the cry was not repeated. Eventually suspense dwindled and Luzelle realized that she was tired. Perhaps the suffocating atmosphere sapped energy, or maybe dinner had poisoned her. Whatever the reason, it was early but she wanted to sleep.

"I'm going below now," she announced, adding uncomfortably, "Did you ever have a word with Jhiv-Huze about-"

"All difficulties resolved," Girays a.s.sured her. "The stoker has been instructed, the captain has the matter well in hand."

"The captain, if I'm not mistaken, is thoroughly drunk and dead to the world until morning."

"The affair has been settled. Don't worry, you'll not be disturbed."

"But what about you?"

"I'm wondering if I might not commandeer the captain's quarters for tonight. Jhiv-Huze, as you've observed, is unlikely to notice."

"You wouldn't dare!" She could not help laughing.

"Well, it's something to consider. In the meantime, you go get some sleep."

"I will-and thank you." For once it was easy to thank him.

Making her way down the companion and forward to the main cabin, she opened the door and stuck her head in cautiously. Moonlight washing through the porthole illumined an empty compartment, and she released a relieved breath. She stepped in and shut the door behind her. No lock, she observed with regret. Not so much as a chair to brace beneath the latch. Well, she didn't need one. She was quite unnecessarily skittish.

Nevertheless she hesitated to undress, but the dank state of her garments decided her. Pulling a pair of knee-length muslin drawers and one of the long, loose Bizaqhi tunics from her bag, she cast a wary glance about and then, crouched on the floor with her back to the door, hurriedly and furtively changed her wet clothes for the dry ones. Relatively dry; the sodden air seemed to have permeated everything she owned. The pocket pistol went into the bag to lie atop the contents, in easy reach should she need it.

She spread her damp garments out across one of the vacant hammocks, and spread herself out in another. The canvas beneath her was moist and it smelled of mildew. There was no pillow, no sheet, and no need of the latter, for the atmosphere lay heavy as a soggy woolen blanket. But the slight rocking motion of the ship at anchor was curiously soothing, and she was genuinely tired. Presently her thoughts slowed, her eyes closed, and she slept.

SHE HAD NO IDEA what minute sound or acute instinct woke her. Luzelle opened her eyes. She could not have slumbered very long, for the moonlight streaming into the cabin had scarcely altered. By that pale glow she discerned the form of the stoker Oonuvu squatting close beside her hammock. He was staring down at her where she lay, his hands sliding slowly back and forth along his bare thighs. His face was in shadow, but she caught the gleam of melted-pitch eyes. A cry too spontaneous for prudence or dignity to contain escaped her. Rolling from the hammock, she hit the floor on all fours and scrambled to her feet. what minute sound or acute instinct woke her. Luzelle opened her eyes. She could not have slumbered very long, for the moonlight streaming into the cabin had scarcely altered. By that pale glow she discerned the form of the stoker Oonuvu squatting close beside her hammock. He was staring down at her where she lay, his hands sliding slowly back and forth along his bare thighs. His face was in shadow, but she caught the gleam of melted-pitch eyes. A cry too spontaneous for prudence or dignity to contain escaped her. Rolling from the hammock, she hit the floor on all fours and scrambled to her feet.

He whispered something in Ygahri.

She did not pause to interpret or a.n.a.lyze, but sprang for the door. She was through it in a flash, stumbling aft through the dark in search of the companionway. She did not know if Oonuvu followed, did not even know for certain that she had anything to fear from him, but she did belatedly realize that she had left herself defenseless. The Khrennisov still lay where she had so carefully placed it in her bag.

She was up on deck again, the night air soft and thick around her, the moonlight serviceably bright. A shadow slid along the edge of her vision, and she whirled to confront Girays, who had sprung out of nowhere.

He took one look and asked, "What's happened?"

"That boy-" Her voice came out a frightened, ridiculous squeak, and she took care to lower it. "In the cabin-"

"Did he lay a hand on you?"

"No, no he didn't. But I woke up, and he was just there there, right beside me, staring down-"

"That does it. The little animal's off this boat, right now. I'm going to dump him over the side, and he can swim for the bank."

"Girays, you can't do that!"

"Better than killing him outright, isn't it?" He made for the companionway.

His expression astonished her. Gone were all traces of characteristic weariness and amus.e.m.e.nt. He looked composed, purposeful, and dangerous. She had never seen him look like that, had never guessed that he could look like that. For a moment he seemed almost a stranger.

"Wait." She dragged vainly at his arm. "Stop. Please listen. That boy surprised me, but he didn't actually do anything wrong. Girays, do you hear me? I said he didn't do do anything-" anything-"

"He broke into your room, didn't he?"

"Not exactly. It wasn't locked and it isn't really my room. Remember, he normally sleeps there-"

"Not tonight."

"Maybe he didn't know that. You spoke with the captain, who might easily have neglected to pa.s.s the word to the stoker. Remember how drunk he was."

"You mean, you think this incident accidental? You believe the boy ignorant and innocent?"

"Well-" She pictured Oonuvu squatting beside the hammock, she remembered his eyes in the moonlight. No, she didn't believe him innocent for one moment, but-" I don't really know," she confessed aloud. "We can't even speak his language, and I suppose we can't just a.s.sume the worst for no better reason than-than the look in his eyes...."

"Luzelle." Girays finally halted and turned to face her. "What are you trying to say? That you don't need or want my a.s.sistance? There is nothing new in that. I should have remembered."

"That isn't what I meant. Don't you know how glad I am that you're here? I don't think I could stand it if you weren't." She hesitated, embarra.s.sed, and concluded lamely, "I just don't want you to do anything rash."

"Then our accustomed roles are reversed tonight. Very well." The grim set of his jaw relaxed a little. "I promise to permit Oonuvu full opportunity to explain himself before I throw him overboard. What could be more fair? Now let us go track down the little beast."

He advanced and she followed. Soon they reached the main cabin, whose door stood wide open. Her carpetbag, likewise open, lay on the floor where she had left it. Hurrying to the bag, Luzelle knelt and quickly checked the contents.

"Nothing missing," she reported.

"Except the stoker, but there aren't many places he can hide. Come, we'll check the engine room."

"Girays, no. Just let it go. Please Please."