Thorns (23 page)

"You make a wonderful partner," she told him. "There's a strength about you... a feeling for the rhythm..."

"I was never much of a dancer before Manipool."

"Manipool?"

"The planet where I... where they..."

She didn't know. He had assumed everyone here was familiar with his story. But perhaps these rich ones paid no heed to current vid-program sensations. They had not followed his misfortunes. Very likely she had taken his appearance so thoroughly for granted that it had not occurred to her to wonder how he had come to look that way. Tact could be overdone; she was less interested in him than he had thought

"Never mind," he said.

As they made another circuit of the floor, he caught sight of Lona at last: leaving the room. The industrialist stood by himself, seemingly baffled. Instantly Burris came to a halt. His partner looked a question at him.

"Excuse me. Perhaps she's ill."

Not ill: just sulking. He found her in the room, face down on the bed. When he put his hand on her bare back, she shivered and rolled away from him. He could not say anything to her. They slept far apart, and when his dream of Manipool came to him, he managed to choke off his screams before they began, and sat up, rigid, until the terror passed.

Neither of them mentioned the episode in the morning.

They went sight-seeing, via power-sled. Titan's hotel-and-spaceport complex lay near the center of a smallish plateau bordered by immense mountains. Here, as on Luna, peaks that dwarfed Everest were plentiful. It seemed incongruous that such small worlds would have such great ranges, but so it was. A hundred miles or so to the west of the hotel was Martinelli Glacier, a vast creeping river of ice coiling for hundreds of miles down out of the heart of the local Himalayas. The glacier terminated, improbably enough, in the galaxy-famed Frozen Waterfall. Which every visitor to Titan was obliged to visit, and which Burris and Lona visited, too.

There were lesser sights en route that Burris found more deeply stirring. The swirling methane clouds and tufts of frozen ammonia ornamenting the naked mountains, for example, giving them the look of mountains in a Sung scroll. Or the dark lake of methane half an hour's drive from the dome. In its waxen depths dwelled the small, durable living things of Titan, creatures that were more or less mollusks and arthropods, but rather less than more. They were equipped for breathing and drinking methane. With life of any sort as scarce as it was in this solar system, Burris found it fascinating to view these rarities in their native habitat. Around the rim of the lake he saw their food: Titan-weeds, ropy greasy plants, dead white in color, capable of enduring this hellish climate in perfect comfort

The sled rolled on toward the Frozen Waterfall.

There it was: blue-white, glinting in Saturnlight, suspended over an enormous void. The beholders made the obligatory sighs and gasps. No one left the sled, for the winds were savage out there, and the breathing-suits could not be entirely trusted to protect one against the corrosive atmosphere.

They circled the waterfall, viewing the sparkling arch of ice from three sides. Then came the bad news from their cicerone: "Storm coming up. We're heading back."

The storm came, long before they reached the comfort of the dome. First there was rain, a sleety downpour of precipitated ammonia that rattled on the roof of their sled, and then clouds of ammonia-crystal snow, driven by the wind. The sled pushed on with difficulty. Burris had never seen snow come down so heavily or so fast. The wind churned and uprooted it, piling it into cathedrals and forests. Straining a little, the power-sled avoided new dunes and nosed around sudden barricades. Most of the passengers looked imperturbable. They exclaimed on the beauty of the storm. Burris, who knew how close they all were to entombment, sat moodily in silence. Death might bring peace at last, but if he could choose his death he did not mean to choose being buried alive. Already he could taste the acrid foulness as the air began to give out and the whining motors fed their exhaust back into the passenger compartment. Imagination, nothing more. He tried to enjoy the beauty of the storm.

Nevertheless, it was a source of great relief to enter the warmth and safety of the dome once again.

He and Lona quarreled again soon after their return. There was even less reason for this quarrel than for any of the others. But very swiftly it reached a level of real malevolence.

"You didn't look at me the whole trip, Minner!"

"I looked at the scenery. That's why we're here."

"You could take my hand. You could smile."

"I—"

"Am I that boring?"

He was weary of retreating. "As a matter of fact, you are! You're a dull, dreary, ignorant little girl! All this is wasted on you! Everything! You can't appreciate food, clothing, sex, travel..."

"And what are you? Just a hideous freak!"

"That makes two of us."

"Am I a freak?" she shrilled. "It doesn't show. I'm a human being, at least. What are you?"

That was when he sprang at her.

His smooth fingers closed around her throat. She battered at him, pounded him with her fists, clawed his cheeks with raking nails. But she could not break his skin, and that roused her to smoldering fury. He gripped her firmly, shaking her, making her head roll wildly on its mooring, and all the while she kicked and punched. Through his arteries surged all the byproducts of rage.

I could kill her so easily, he thought.

But the very act of pausing to let a coherent concept roll through his mind calmed him. He released her. He stared at his hands, she at him. There were mottled marks on her throat that nearly matched the blotches newly sprung out on his face. Gasping, she stepped away from him. She did not speak. Her hand, shaking, pointed at him.

Fatigue clubbed him to his knees.

All his strength vanished at once. His joints gave way, and he slipped, melting, unable even to brace himself with his hands. He lay prone, calling her name. He had never felt this weak before, not even while he had been recuperating from what had been done to him on Manipool.

This is what it's like to be bled white, he told himself. The leeches have been at me! God, will I ever be able to stand again? "Help!" he cried soundlessly. "Lona, where are you?"

When he was strong enough to lift his head, he discovered that she was gone. He did not know how much time had passed. Weakly he pulled himself up inch by inch and sat on the edge of the bed until the worst of the feebleness was over. Was it a judgment upon him for striking her? Each time they had quarreled he had felt this sickness come upon him.

"Lona?"

He went into the hall, staying close to the side partition. Probably he looked drunk to the well-groomed women who sailed past him. They smiled. He tried to return the smiles.

He did not find her.

Somehow, hours later, he discovered Aoudad. The little man looked apprehensive.

"Have you seen her?" Burris croaked.

"Halfway to Ganymede by now. She left on the dinner flight."

"Left?"

Aoudad nodded. "Nick went with her. They're going back to Earth. What did you do—slam her around some?"

"You let her go?" Burris muttered. "You permitted her to walk out? What's Chalk going to say about that?"

"Chalk knows. Don't you think we checked with him first? He said, sure, if she wants to come home, let her come home. Put her on the next ship out. So we did. Hey, you look pale, Burris. I thought with your skin you couldn't get pale!"

"When does the next ship after hers leave?"

"Tomorrow night. You aren't going to go chasing her, are you?"

"What else?"

Grinning, Aoudad said, "You'll never get anywhere that way. Let her go. This place is full of women who'd be glad to take her place. You'd be amazed how many. Some of them know I'm with you, and they come up to me, wanting me to fix you up with them. It's the face, Minner. The face fascinates them."

Burris turned away from him.

Aoudad said, "You're shaken up. Listen, let's go have a drink!"

Without looking back, Burris replied, "I'm tired. I want to rest."

"Should I send one of the women to you after a while?"

"Is that your idea of rest?"

"Well, matter of fact, yes." He laughed pleasantly. "I don't mind taking care of them myself, you understand, but it's you they want. You."

"Can I call Ganymede? Maybe I can talk to her while her ship's refueling."

Aoudad caught up with him. "She's gone, Burris. You ought to forget her now. What did she have besides problems? Just a skinny little kid! You didn't even get along well with her. I know. I saw. All you did was shout at each other. What do you need her for? Now, let me tell you about—"

"Are you carrying any relaxers?"

"You know they won't do you any good."

Burris held out his hand anyway. Aoudad shrugged and put a relaxer into it. Burris touched the tube to his skin. The illusion of tranquillity might be worth nearly as much as the genuine article now. He thanked Aoudad and walked sharply toward his room, alone.

On the way he passed a woman whose hair was spun pink glass and whose eyes were amethysts. Her costume was chastely immodest. Her voice, feather-soft, brushed his earless cheeks. He rushed past her, trembling, and entered his room.

TWENTY-SEVEN

THE GRAIL'S TRUE WARDEN

"It spoiled a lovely romance," said Tom Nikolaides.

Lona did not smile. "Nothing lovely about it. I was glad to get away."

"Because he tried to choke you?"

"That was only at the very end. It was bad a long time before that. You don't have to get hurt that way in order to get hurt."

Nikolaides peered deep into her eyes. He understood, or pretended he did. "True enough. It's too bad, but we all knew it couldn't last."

"Including Chalk?"

"Especially Chalk. He predicted the breakup. It's remarkable how much mail we've had on it. The whole universe seems to think it's a terrible thing that you two split."

Lona flashed a quick, empty smile. Standing, she paced the long room in choppy strides. The plaques mounted to her heels clicked against the polished floor. "Will Chalk be here soon?" she asked.

"Soon. He's a very busy man. But the moment he reaches the building, we'll take you to him."

"Nick, will he really give me my babies?"

"Let's hope so."

She caught up with him. Fiercely her hand caught his wrist.
"
Hope
so?
Hope
so? He promised them to me!"

"But you walked out on Burris."

"You said yourself Chalk was expecting it. The romance wasn't supposed to last forever. Now it's over, and I kept my part of the bargain, and Chalk's got to keep his."

She felt muscles quivering in her thighs. These fancy shoes; hard to stand this way. But they made her look taller, older. It was important to look outwardly the way she had come to be inwardly. That trip with Burris had aged her five years in as many weeks. The constant tension... the bickering...

Above all, the terrible exhaustion after each quarrel...

She would look the fat man straight in the eye. If he tried to worm out of his promise, she'd make life difficult for him. No matter how powerful he was, he couldn't cheat her! She'd been nursemaid to that weird refugee from an alien planet long enough to have earned the right to her own babies. She—

That wasn't right, she admonished herself suddenly, I mustn't make fun of him. He didn't ask for his troubles. And I volunteered to share them.

Nikolaides stepped into the abrupt silence. "Now that you're back on Earth, Lona, what are your plans?"

"To arrange for the children, first. Then I want to disappear from public life for good. I've had two rounds of publicity now, one when the babies were taken from me, one when I went off with Minner. That's enough."

"Where will you go? Will you leave Earth?"

"I doubt it. I'll stay. Maybe I'll write a book." She smiled. "No, that wouldn't be so good, would it? More publicity. I'll live quietly. How about Patagonia?" She peered forward. "Do you have any idea where
he
is now?"

"Chalk?"

"Minner," she said.

"Still on Titan, so far as I know. Aoudad's with him."

"They've been there three weeks, then. I suppose they're having a good time." Her lips curved fiercely.

"I know Aoudad must be," Nikolaides said. "Give him plenty of available women, and he'd have a good time anywhere. But I couldn't vouch for Burris. All I know is that they haven't made any move to come home yet. Still interested in him, are you?"

"No!"

Nikolaides put his hands to his ears. "All right All right. I believe you. It's just that—"

The door at the far end of the room rippled inward. A small, ugly man With long, thin lips stepped through. Lona recognized him: he was d'Amore, one of Chalk's men. She said at once, "Has Chalk showed up yet? I've got to talk to him!"