machine of destruction. He could savor the forest trails and friendly cabins just as the young sworder had four years ago. A life and death ago!

      He stood beside the circlet the one where Sol the sword had fought Sol of all weapons for name and armament and, as it turned out, woman. What a different world it would have been, had that encounter never taken place!

      He entered the cabin, recognizing the underworld manufacture and the crazy maintenance. Strange how his perceptions had changed! He had never really wondered before where the supplies had come from; he, like most nomads, had taken such things for granted. How had such naivete‚ been possible?

      He broke out supplies and prepared a Gargantuan meal for himself. He had to eat enormously to maintain this massive body, but food was not much of a pleasure. Taste had been one of the many things that had suffered in the cause of increased power. He wondered whether, in the past, the surgeons had been able to perform their miracles without attendant demolition of peripheral sensitivity. Or had their machines taken the place of warriors?

      A girl showed up at dusk, young enough and pretty enough, but when she saw his bare wrist she kept to herself. Hostels had always been excellent places to hunt for bracelets. He wondered whether the crazies knew about this particular aspect of their service.

      He slept in one bunk, the girl courteously taking the one adjacent though she could have claimed privacy by establishing herself on the far side of the column. She glanced askance when she perceived that he was after all alone, but she was not concerned. His readings had also told him that before the Blast women had had to watch out for men, and seldom dared to sleep in the presence of a stranger. If that were true-though it was hardly creditable in a civilization more advanced than the present one-things had certainly improved. It was unthinkable that a man require favors not freely proffered-or that a woman should withhold them capriciously. Yet Sosa had described the perils of her childhood, where tribes viewed women differently; not all the badness had been expunged by the fire.

      The girl could contain her curiosity no longer. 'Sir, if I may ask-where is your woman?'

      He thought of Sosa, pert little Sosa, almost too small to carry a full-sized bracelet, but big in performance and spirit. He missed her. 'She is in the world of the dead,' he said.

      'I'm sorry,' she said, misunderstanding as he had meant her to. A man buried his bracelet with his wife, if he loved her, and did not take another until mourning was over. How was he to explain that it was not Sosa's death, but his own return to life that had parted them forever?

      The girl sat up in her bed, touching her nightied breast and showing her embarrassment. Her hair as pale. 'It was wrong of me to ask,' she said.

      'It was wrong of me not to explain,' he said graciously, knowing how ugly he would appear to this innocent.

      'If you desire to-'  -

      'No offense,' he said with finality.

      'None,' she agreed, relieved.

      Would this ordinary, attractive, artless girl sharing his cabin but not his bed-would she ever generate the violence of passion and sorrow he had known? Would some stout naive warrior hand her his bracelet tomorrow and travel to the mountain when he lost her?

      It was possible, for that was the great modern dream of life and love. There was in the least of people, male and female, the capacity to arouse tumultuous emotion. That was the marvel and the glory of it all.

      She fixed his breakfast in the morning, another courteous gesture that showed she had been well brought up. She tried not to stare as he stepped out of the shower blessed her and went his way, and she hers. These customs were good, and had they met four years ago she been of age then- It took him only a week to cover the distance two men and a girl traveled before. Some of the cabins were occupied, others not, but he kept to himself and was left alone. It surprised him a little that common manners had changed; this was another quality of the nomad society that he had never properly appreciated until he learned how blunt things could be elsewhere.

      But there were some changes. The markers were gone, evidently the crazies, perhaps prompted by his report to Jones, had brought their Geiger clickers (manufactured in the underworld electronics shop) and resurveyed the area at last. That could mean that the moths and shrews were gone, too, or at least brought into better harmony with the rest of the ecology. He saw the tracks of hoofed animals and was certain of it.

      The old camp remained, replete with its memories-and it was still occupied! Men exercised in the several circles and the big tent had been maintained beside the river. The firetrench, however, had been filled in, the retrenchments leveled; this was the decisive evidence that the shrews longer swarmed. They had finally given way to the stronger species:

Вы читаете Sos the Rope
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