Norton, Andre - Anthology (20 page)

 
          
 
Just do as I say. — Here he comes!

 
          
 
The door of the house opened, and a man
stepped out into the light. He immediately hailed Dory. She looked up as if
surprised, then smiled broadly and waved to him.

 
          
 
Scholar Ambrose was a man in his middle years,
older than Martin looked to be, but like her teacher, he was slender and
appeared to enjoy good health and full vigor. In his youth, he must have been
startlingly handsome. He was comely still with hair so black that it almost
gleamed and piercing eyes of the same color. His complexion was olive and his
features almost as perfectly chiseled as those on a statue of yore. Only his
mouth spoiled him a little. That was tight and hard and was framed by lines
that gave him a harsh, even an implacable, look.

 
          
 
He reached the wall in a matter of seconds and
came to a stop at the place nearest to her perch. "You make a singularly
attractive spy," he observed. His speech was cultivated, without
affectation, his voice pleasantly modulated.

 
          
 
"You have a singularly attractive
house," Dory countered. She held up the sketch her arts had just created
so that he could view the largely uncompleted picture of his dwelling with its
elaborate tracing of vines covering its walls.

 
          
 
His smile was devastating. Dory swallowed
hard. She wanted to scramble down the tree and race for her house but knew that
she must hold her ground. The twelve-year-old she had been would have run. The
woman she had become could not.

 
          
 
That woman should know what to do, what to say
next, but Dory simply did not. How could she? She had missed the experiences,
the normal, slow acquisition of the social skills that should have fitted her
for this encounter. The man was too attractive, and he was not looking at her
the way Martin did. ...

 
          
 
Trust your instincts, foolish kit!

 
          
 
Simpler to say than do!

 
          
 
He was right. The human forcibly calmed and
cleared her mind. The ability to function in her new life had come along with
it. She must keep herself open to that inner guidance, however difficult it was
to do when she was this nervous. That was it. She need be no other than
herself. Be courteous. Grow interested in the person himself ...

 
          
 
Ambrose fetched the ladder he used for pruning
and set it against the wall. With its aid, he gained the top of the barrier. He
half sat on the six-inch flat surface. "I'm Ambrose," he announced
since they had never been introduced despite the proximity of their dwellings.

 
          
 
"Doreen," she replied, using the formal
name Martin had given her. "I'm pleased to meet you, sir. I hope I haven't
disturbed you too much, but you do have a lovely courtyard. I enjoy drawing
views of it."

 
          
 
"Yes, it is pleasant," he agreed
with obvious pleasure, "and it's as unique as it is attractive."

 
          
 
"Scholar Martin told me that you supply
medicines for physicians like Doctor Solomon," she ventured.

 
          
 
"The raw materials mostly, except in
cases where my greater knowledge of the substances involved makes it
significantly safer for me to produce the entire preparation myself."

 
          
 
"What a fascinating business!"

 
          
 
He smiled, a trifle indulgently, she thought.
'The plants are interesting. Business is business, and I confess to having
little love for that. Otherwise, I would have kept on running my father's after
his death instead of selling it off. It was profitable enough."

 
          
 
"What kind of trade did ye follow?"
Dory asked. She found it impossible to imagine this man making candles or
cobbling boots.

 
          
 
"Luxury imports. We brought the things in
from the Mainland and peddled them to the noble and rich. We didn't call it
that, of course. It was all handled in a very sophisticated manner, but it was
peddling all the same. I preferred a scholarly life among my plants, with
visits to the capital now and then for cultural recreation."

 
          
 
"But you do have an occupation," she
pointed out.

 
          
 
He nodded. "To supplement the income from
my investments. I'm independent enough that I do not have to deal in common
spices and herbs and other readily available commodities. If I wanted to make a
real go of this, I should have to provide for all a physician's or a nature
healer's needs."

 
          
 
Ambrose eyed her speculatively. "Now, young
woman, I've told you all about myself. What is your story? I take it that you
are Martin's pupil? I'd heard that you were attractive, but I confess I did not
imagine you would prove quite this comely."

 
          
 
Dory's eyes fell, and she colored slightly.
"It was felt that I would do well to study with someone like Scholar
Martin for the sciences and mathematics."

 
          
 
"Has he proven a good teacher?"

 
          
 
"Indeed, yes. I am learning a great
deal."

 
          
 
"No doubt. About botany, too?"

 
          
 
"Of course. I do very well with it,
actually. I like studying living things more than abstract figures."

 
          
 
She could feel his eyes examining her,
searching her face, although his expression did not alter. Did he believe her?
Surely, he could not imagine the one course of study she had carefully
refrained from mentioning

 
          
 
The man gave her a winning smile. “I suppose
it would be considered improper if I offered to give you a tour of my
collection," he remarked. "I have the afternoon at my disposal."

 
          
 
Dory looked up sharply, “it would be highly
improper.”

 
          
 
Trouble's growl sounded in her mind. Just try
bringing those black eyes up here, human. I'll scratch them out for yen.

 
          
 
Trouble! she exclaimed, horrified.

 
          
 
And don't you dare even think of climbing down
to him! He's reeking like a courting torn.

 
          
 
I have no intention of going down there, fur
brain, as he knows full well.

 
          
 
Ambrose accepted her refusal without sign of
surprise or protest. "Perhaps I can invite both you and your teacher one
day.”

 
          
 
“Id really enjoy that," she assured him.

 
          
 
The man started to turn away but stopped
suddenly. "I've told the local young people about the perils of sampling
my crops. I don't suppose it's necessary to issue the same warning to
you?"

 
          
 
She drew herself up. "I assure you, sir,
that I do not go sneaking over fences to pilfer my neighbors' berries and
fruit."

 
          
 
He laughed. "No, I imagine it is safe to
assume that you don't. Farewell. Doreen. I shall call upon your Scholar Martin
soon."

 
          
 
Dory watched until he went inside once more.
"How handsome he is! Well, how did I manage?” she inquired of her
companion.

 
          
 
You did fine, he told her. Now let's get out
of here before he changes his mind. I don't like that one. His eyes don't match
his smell.

 
          
 
"You said he smelled like a torn."
Her face turned scarlet as she spoke.

 
          
 
She should not be surprised. Dory knew the
sort of education she was supposed to be receiving was often that sought by
women desiring to become courtesans, and the irregularity of her present
position and dress could only have reinforced that impression in the botanist's
mind. Damn. This was a complication she did not want or need.

 
          
 
Dory dropped lightly out of the tree onto the
table. She jumped to the ground, thoroughly startled by a snaring hiss of
unparalleled fury.

 
          
 
Jasmine was crouched on the table. Her ears
were pinned flat against her head. Her eyes were slits. Her body was taut,
ready to spring at the hint of provocation.

 
          
 
The human stared in astonishment at the
usually docile little cat. "Jasmine, whatever is the matter, baby?"

 
          
 
That monster is not to come here. This is
Martin's territory.

 
          
 
"Ambrose?"

 
          
 
Yes.

 
          
 
"Why do you dislike him so much?"

 
          
 
When I was a small kitten, I got into his
garden and nibbled some of his accursed plants. Fire was exploding in my belly
when he found me. That cruel one knew what was wrong with me because he
examined the leaves I had chewed, but he only laughed. "Bad choice for
you, cat," he said. "It will be interesting to watch how long it takes."

 
          
 
Dory swore, calling up a phrase she had heard
her former guardian's husband use, but the tabby went on with her story as if
she did not hear. Vd have been finished then, but someone called him back into
his house, and I was able to crawl off to die.

 
          
 
She purred suddenly. Instead, I worked my way
right through a hole in the fence into this courtyard. My distress had reached
Martin, and he was already looking for me. That's how we met. She purred more loudly
still. He found me and made me well. My Martin stayed awake night after night
to save me.'

 
          
 
"Poor little lady. No wonder you throw up
if someone looks at you sideways. What did Martin do when you told him what had
happened?"

 
          
 
I didn't tell him, or anyone else, either. I
—I was afraid of what Ambrose might do.

 
          
 
The woman's brows raised. "Do to
Martin?"

 
          
 
Something sneaky.

 
          
 
"That would probably be in character for
the bastard."

 
          
 
Dory did not find the botanist attractive any
longer. She recalled the hard cast to his expression and realized there was
good cause for it. His character and his soul were rotten with cruelty. Anyone
who could laugh at the suffering of a helpless little animal would use a child
just as viciously.

 
          
 
She blinked. "How is he working it?"
Dory whispered. She was certain now, as certain as she was of life itself, that
Solomon's little son had not contracted some dire disease, that his symptoms
were being intentional]- induced through the direct wish and will of Ambrose
the scholar. Why he had turned his spleen against the child of an insignificant
village physician was irrelevant. All that mattered was how he was
administering his venom and how to stop him before he killed Sammy.