- Chapter 18
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Profession
Give me where to stand, and I shall move the world.
—Archimedes
Karl walked a few hundred yards from the fire before spreading his blankets on the damp grass.
Slipping out of his leggings and tunic, he slid between the blankets and lay back, pillowing his head on his hands. High above, a coal-black sky winked its million eyes.
How the hell are we going to do it? Where do we start? With Pandathaway's Slavers' Guild, I suppose, but . . .
He shrugged. Slavery had been alive on this world for millennia. He wasn't going to figure out how to end it tonight.
But tomorrow was another day.
And besides, I've been told that thinking isn't my strong suit. He chuckled, and then sighed deeply.
*Well, you're correct for once.*
Thanks.
He sighed. Doria was gone now. He probably wouldn't see her again. Would she be happy with the Society?
*They take care of their own, Karl.*
"Probably. Do me a favor; get out of my mind for a while. It's been kind of a tough day—"
*Year.*
"—year, then. I could use some rest."
*I was just going to ask if you minded if I hunted up some food.*
"Not my department; take it up with Ahira. Where are you, anyway?"
*Down by the stream. I thought I might snatch up a few fish while I'm on watch. I can see Walter and Ahira and Riccetti from here, sitting around the fire, arguing. And Andrea's worrying—*
"Arguing and worrying? About what?"
*Riccetti's talking about going back to the other side for a book of tables, of all things. Why he's so interested in furniture, I don't know.*
"Engineering tables, Ellegon. Different sort of thing." Although Karl had had quite enough of Riccetti's arguing about books. First the spell books, and now this. "What's Andy worried about?"
*Parents, relatives, friends. How they'll miss her, not know what happened to her. And—*
"Hmm—remind her about the time differential on this side. It's a problem for all of us, but we've got a few years to figure out what to do about it. It'll be at least a day or so, on the other side, before we're seriously missed. And that'll stack up to . . ." He trailed off, too lazy and too tired to worry over the calculation. Save it for morning. Save it all for morning.
*But I was wondering about the food. I'll keep alert, I promise. Young dragons don't sleep much at all, you know.*
"Young dragons also don't stop bugging the hell out of me."
*True.*
Ellegon went silent. Karl let his eyelids sag shut, his muscles unkink. Loosen the neck, slow the heart, rest the mind . . .
Silently, she slid into his arms. He sat up with a jerk, bowling her over. "What the hell—"
Andy-Andy propped her chin on one hand. "If you're going to bounce me around the meadow, I'll go elsewhere." A loose strand of hair fell across her nose. She blew it off and moved closer to him, brushing the blankets aside.
No, there weren't any bikini marks. Amazing.
After a while, she pushed him away. But gently, and only a few inches. "Looks like you finally found yourself a profession—"
"This?"
"—hero."
"Don't talk dirty."
Whether he reached for her, or she for him, he was never quite sure.
But he couldn't have cared less.
Back | Next
Contents
Framed
- Chapter 18
Back | Next
Contents
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Profession
Give me where to stand, and I shall move the world.
—Archimedes
Karl walked a few hundred yards from the fire before spreading his blankets on the damp grass.
Slipping out of his leggings and tunic, he slid between the blankets and lay back, pillowing his head on his hands. High above, a coal-black sky winked its million eyes.
How the hell are we going to do it? Where do we start? With Pandathaway's Slavers' Guild, I suppose, but . . .
He shrugged. Slavery had been alive on this world for millennia. He wasn't going to figure out how to end it tonight.
But tomorrow was another day.
And besides, I've been told that thinking isn't my strong suit. He chuckled, and then sighed deeply.
*Well, you're correct for once.*
Thanks.
He sighed. Doria was gone now. He probably wouldn't see her again. Would she be happy with the Society?
*They take care of their own, Karl.*
"Probably. Do me a favor; get out of my mind for a while. It's been kind of a tough day—"
*Year.*
"—year, then. I could use some rest."
*I was just going to ask if you minded if I hunted up some food.*
"Not my department; take it up with Ahira. Where are you, anyway?"
*Down by the stream. I thought I might snatch up a few fish while I'm on watch. I can see Walter and Ahira and Riccetti from here, sitting around the fire, arguing. And Andrea's worrying—*
"Arguing and worrying? About what?"
*Riccetti's talking about going back to the other side for a book of tables, of all things. Why he's so interested in furniture, I don't know.*
"Engineering tables, Ellegon. Different sort of thing." Although Karl had had quite enough of Riccetti's arguing about books. First the spell books, and now this. "What's Andy worried about?"
*Parents, relatives, friends. How they'll miss her, not know what happened to her. And—*
"Hmm—remind her about the time differential on this side. It's a problem for all of us, but we've got a few years to figure out what to do about it. It'll be at least a day or so, on the other side, before we're seriously missed. And that'll stack up to . . ." He trailed off, too lazy and too tired to worry over the calculation. Save it for morning. Save it all for morning.
*But I was wondering about the food. I'll keep alert, I promise. Young dragons don't sleep much at all, you know.*
"Young dragons also don't stop bugging the hell out of me."
*True.*
Ellegon went silent. Karl let his eyelids sag shut, his muscles unkink. Loosen the neck, slow the heart, rest the mind . . .
Silently, she slid into his arms. He sat up with a jerk, bowling her over. "What the hell—"
Andy-Andy propped her chin on one hand. "If you're going to bounce me around the meadow, I'll go elsewhere." A loose strand of hair fell across her nose. She blew it off and moved closer to him, brushing the blankets aside.
No, there weren't any bikini marks. Amazing.
After a while, she pushed him away. But gently, and only a few inches. "Looks like you finally found yourself a profession—"
"This?"
"—hero."
"Don't talk dirty."
Whether he reached for her, or she for him, he was never quite sure.
But he couldn't have cared less.
Back | Next
Contents
Framed