"Andrew J. Offutt - Spaceways 02 - Corundums Woman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

"Medinahs" now, on twenty planets, but that one was gone. And that
ferocious-looking man sitting his "horse" atop a hilt and gazing out across a
vista that ran out to meet a planetary horizon. That was Jenghiz or Chengiss
Khan, he told her; Jen-ggis, staring at a place he would conquer. 36 It had
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been called Khitai and Cathay then, China much later, on that cerulean-sky
planet, which was Homeworld. Khan was about the color of King, Janja
noticed. The painter of this beautifully idealized space scene -a woman and a
man striding in lockstep across planets-was an artist who signed itself only
"Jean." Homeworld, Corundum said; twenty-second century. Its title was
Oneness. From conquest to. oneness. And there was this strange thing in heavy
shades of red, yet not harsh reds. Its title was In the Underworld. A man and
a woman-she with yellow hair and pale skin!-had their backs to the viewer.
Neither wore much. The man was brandishing a rather short sword. They faced a
giant thing, a hairless, massive, winged, horned being that Corundum said was
fanciful. A demon, or shaitan. (Who?-An ancient embodiment of evil.-Oh.) The
woman's legs could have been copied from Janja's: solid-looking with
overdeveloped calves like smoothly, doubled fists beneath the skin. Why that
one? she had asked. It was so menacing. "Because hers are the most magnificent
legs and posterior Corundum has ever seen," Corundum told her, and after a
while she chuckled. Why not? That was a reason, and it was his cabin, his home
in space. Here was another by the same long-dead artist, with the single name
"Boris." It was called Primeval Princess. Again it showed a nearly naked
woman. Again she was blond. This one faced the viewer in majesty, staring
coldly down at the viewer from the heights of her beauty. She had a hand on
each of two perfectly horrible lizard-monster-things that flanked her. Various
pieces of entwining metal jewelry visibly cut into her flesh. She was
beautiful and she was imperiousness itself; a face that looked down upon the
universe in general. Why this one? (That stare, Janja thought, would make her
nervous. Self-conscious. And the beasts looked ready to come slithering out of
the painting.) 37 "Because she is a magnificent and desirable woman and
Corundum is a man," Corundum told her. "And now she reminds me of you." (Janja
had some understanding of that, now. Then, that third night, she had reacted
with incredulity and some scorn.) "Her? With those big meaty thighs and those
great sacs on her chest? That thick waist? How can you say so?" "I can say so.
She is that artist's concept of the ideal -and not thick-waisted! She comes
close to Corundum's. You approach perfection, Janja; she is idealism." "Male
idealism." He finger-flipped. "No fine sub-ancient Greek athlete, ever looked
as good as that same artist painted men." Before she could ask the meaning of
"Greek," he went on, "This is Corundum's home. You may have noticed that
Corundum is male." The sound that came up from her throat united a purr and a
chuckle. She had noticed, yes. He gave off more male feeling than anyone since
Jonuta, whom she wanted only to kill. She considered, staring at the
meter-tall painting in golds and other connected hues, with that weird yellow
foliage behind the-behind H.R.H. Primeval Princess. "And do you think you
would like me so ... so ..." "Imperious," he provided, from just behind
her. "Haughty and almost sneering, looking down," Janja finished. "Imperious,"