That night, as the oldster lay in the heat ready to sleep, a hooded visitor came to the cellar. The old man went to investigate, was given something, and stood aside. The figure came to stan4 over Var's bunk.
Jarred out of his reverie, Var looked up.
It was Soli. Her eyes were luminous under the hood.
'You did it,' she said softly.
Var just looked at her, struck by the beauty of her features. Already the training had had its impact on her bearing, and the cosmetics had enhanced her splendor.
'I saw you in the garden,' she murmured, continuing to look down on him with an expression he did not understand.
Then her hand came from under the cloak,' holding a slipper. Down it came against his stomach, stingingly.
'I thought you were dead!' she cried, and now he recognized her emotion: fury. Then she turned and left.
She had thought him dead. He had never suspected that, but in retrospect it was obvious. Attacked in the night, captured, hauled away to a strange institution without sight of him-what would her natural interpretation have been, except that he had been killed in the same, fracas? So she had resigned herself. .. and discovered, suddenly that it was a lie.
Why had he meddled? He had never intended to have it come out that way.
The old man returned, chuckling. Obviously he had now made the connection between the spitfire and the handyman. Would he keep the confidence? It didn't matter, since the arrangement was legitimate and Soli knew the truth.
Var lay awake a long time, not certain whether to be pleased or saddened by Soli's attitude. The sudden sight of her had been a shocking stimulus. So lovely, so angry! Did she hate him for deceiving her? Or would she recognize the advantage he had arranged for her? Surely she could see' that they could not have wandered endlessly across the continents of the world. A beautiful girl and an ugly man. Such a life would not hurt him, of course, for he had no higher potential; indeed. It would be easy for bins to revert to the wi1d state and range the badlands. But Soli- Soli could be the Lady, graceful and cultured. He owed it to her to make that life possible.
He still felt guilty. He still longed for her free companionship, as it, had been in the early days, before New Crete. It was impossible, for she would never be young again, but still he wished, and suffered.
Two weeks later, as he gathered fallen wood in the forest and loaded it on a hand wagon for hauling, she came to him again. This time she was dressed in boy's clothes, with her hair concealed and artful smudges on her face. She looked like a marauding urchin-a guise she had long been versed in, as he knew.
'I'm running away,' she said. 'Come with me, as you used to.'
Var grabbed her and carried her back toward the school enclosure. She could have disabled him in a number of ways, but she offered only token resistance.
'I know you're paying for me,' she said. 'I hate you.'
He knew she didn't mean it, but the words stung just the same.
'Why do you want me here?' she asked pitifully. 'Why can't we tour the countryside together? That's all I want.'
Var shifted his grip and continued carrying. She was lithe in his arms, all curve and tension.
She drew her head up and kissed him on the lips, as a woman might. As Sola, her mother, had. 'Just to be with you, Var.'
Temptation smote him savagely. It was the child he remembered, but the woman had hold on his longing too. Yet he walked, unanswering.
'Do you want me to cry?' But she didn't cry, though it would have broken him. And when he didn't answer, she murmured: 'I'm sorry I hit you with my slipper.' And then, when they came in sight of the buildings: 'It should have been a star'
And had she had a morningstar mace, he reflected, she might very well have bashed him with it, such was her momentary fury.
