Door through Space by Marion Zimmer Bradley Elisabeth Waters

Author:Marion Zimmer Bradley, Elisabeth Waters
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Marion Zimmer Bradley Literary Works Trust
Published: 2010-12-15T07:08:02.722000+00:00

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Chapter Nine

When I came to again I was lying with my head in Dallisa's lap, and the reddish color of sunset was in the room. Her thighs were soft under my head, and for an instant I wondered if, in delirium, I had conceded to her. I muttered, “Sun ... not down...”

She bent her face to mine, whispering, “Hush. Hush.”

It was heaven, and I drifted off again. After a moment I felt a cup against my lips.

“Can you swallow this?”

I could and did. I couldn't taste it yet, but it was cold and wet and felt heavenly trickling down my throat. She bent and looked into my eyes, and I felt as if I were falling into those reddish and stormy depths. She touched my scarred mouth with a light finger. Suddenly my head cleared and I sat upright.

“Is this a trick to force me into calling my bet?”

She recoiled as if I had struck her, then the trace of a smile fitted around her red mouth. Yes, between us it was battle. “You are right to be suspicious, I suppose. But if I tell you what I know of Rakhal, will you trust me then?”

I looked straight at her and said, “No.”

Surprisingly, she threw back her head and laughed. I flexed my freed wrists cautiously. The skin was torn away and chafed, and my arms ached to the bone. When I moved harsh lances of pain drove through my chest.

“Well, until sunset I have no right to ask you to trust me,” said Dallisa when she had done laughing. “And since you are bound by my command until the last ray has fallen, I command that you lay your head upon my knees.”

I blazed, “You are making a game of me!”

“Is not that my privilege? Do you refuse?”

“Refuse?” It was not yet sunset. This might be a torture more complex than any which had yet greeted me. From the scarlet glint in her eyes I felt she was playing with me, as the cat-things of the forest play with their helpless victims. My mouth twitched in a grimace of humiliation as I lowered myself obediently until my head rested on her fur-clad knees.

She murmured, smiling, “Is this so unbearable, then?”

I said nothing. Never, never for an instant could I forget that—all human, all woman as she seemed—Dallisa's race was worn and old when the Terran Empire had not left their home star. The mind of Wolf, which has mingled with the nonhuman since before the beginnings of recorded time, is unfathomable to an outsider. I was better equipped than most Earthmen to keep pace with its surface acts, but I could never pretend to understand its deeper motivations.

It works on complex and irrational logic. Mischief is an integral part of it. Even the deadly blood-feud with Rakhal had begun with an over-elaborate practical joke—which had lost the Service, incidentally, several thousand credits worth of spaceship.

And so I could not trust Dallisa for an instant. Yet it was wonderful to lie here with my head resting against the perfumed softness of her body.

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