Phoenix Exultant by John C. Wright

Author:John C. Wright [Wright, John C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Science Fiction, Adventure, Space Opera, Life on Other Planets
ISBN: 9780765343543
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 2003-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

Page 75

She tapped her riding crop against her tall black boots. She ran her fingers through the silken mass of her hair. "I lost my hat," she said. And then, stepping close: "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

There, in the dim light of the stars, beneath the diamond pavilion canopies, was Daphne, smiling. She wore a long dark jacket, laced at the throat, and skintight pale riding breeches.

"Daphne-" He tried to remind himself that this was the doll-wife, the copy, and he told himself that the sudden emotion that flooded him made no sense, no sense at all.

"Daphne-in exile? How long have you been ostracized?"

"Since about a second ago, when I said hello." She smiled an impish smile.

"But-why? Your life is ruined now!" His voice rang hollow with horror.

"Silly boy. I've come to rescue you. Aren't you going to kiss me? I'm not going to ask you again."

It made no sense. It made no sense at all. This was not really the woman he had fallen in love with, was it? Why had she ruined her life to be with him?

He took her in his arms. He bent his lips to hers.

Suddenly, it made perfect sense.

On the deck of the barge in the gloom, Phaethon and Daphne stood in each other's arms. Her stallion was quiet, standing near the stern, his nose moving among the crystal panels of the pavilions overhead.

In the east, like a rainbow of steel, the lower third of the ring-city shone with moon-colored arch-light, silver at the horizon, shading to a golden rose-red in the heights. This was the reflection of a sunrise still hours away, light and reddened, bent by the atmosphere and cast against the orbiting walls and sails of the city, to shine down again on parts of the world still embraced by night. That great curve of light was reflected again to form a rippling trail across the waters, like a road, beyond the horizon, to heaven, and reflected once again, from the ripples, to play against Daphne's cheek and gleam in her dark eyes. Phaethon, looking into those eyes, wondered at how many twists and reflections of sunlight, arch-light, and sea-glimmer were required to make the light in his wife's eyes dance. Yet it was still light from the sun.

His wife's eyes? No. Exact copies, perhaps. But the woman wearing them was nonetheless not his wife. The light in her eyes ultimately came from the sun; but it was not sunlight.

The thoughts and memories ultimately came from the real Daphne; but this was not Daphne.

This ex-doll, this sweet girl whom he did not love, had embraced exile, and perhaps death. Why?

To be with him? Because she thought herself to be in love with him?

The sense that things made sense, so strong just a moment before, was crumbling.

"Why are you here, really?" The words came out stiffly.

Suddenly, their embrace was mere awkwardness, the unwanted intimacy of two strangers.

Daphne stepped away from him. Her head was turned so that he could not see her eyes.

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