The Doors of the Universe by Sylvia Engdahl

Author:Sylvia Engdahl
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Ad Stellae Books

Chapter Seven

Noren awoke in a bed not his own, unsure of whether or not it was morning. In the windowless rooms of the towers one couldn’t tell, and his inner time sense seemed hazy. The lamp was on; he could see the tall time-glass in the corner. Its sand had run all the way through—but would Veldry have turned it over as people usually did on retiring? Under the circumstances, that seemed unlikely.

He found to his dismay that he had little recollection of what he and Veldry had said to each other. He’d intended only to ask her . . . somehow it had gone further than that. He ought, he supposed, to be glad. Instead he felt as if something very special had been devalued.

Veldry sat at the foot of the bed, her back to him, brushing her hair. It was long and dark, like Talyra’s. He had, he remembered, imagined he was with Talyra, much as he had during the secret dream: Veldry’s own identity had been vague, like that of the woman the First Scholar had loved. Only this had not been a dream. He hadn’t been wholly himself—he’d been so hot with anger that he’d not thought beyond his vow that he would bring about his people’s survival—yet he could not say he had not known what he was doing. He’d had too much ale earlier in the evening, perhaps; he’d raged at Lianne’s refusal to bring help to the world, and yes, she had roused other feelings too; all those things might explain his impulsiveness. But they did not make what had happened any less real.

He sat up, reaching for his clothes. “Veldry—” he began, wondering what he could possibly say. He had assumed she wouldn’t get hurt. He’d supposed making love was something she took lightly. It hadn’t been that way; her welcome had been genuine, and her emotions as he’d explained the risk had been deep, though unreadable. That much he did recall.

She turned to him. Her face, of course, was not Talyra’s. It was older and lined with past sadness, though now it was alight with joy. It was also, by ordinary standards, more beautiful; Veldry was considered strikingly lovely. But there was more to her than that, Noren realized, trying to guess her thoughts. He sensed more intellect than rumor credited her with. If only he were better at understanding people. . . .

“Veldry,” he said stiffly. “I—used you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” she answered, “I’ve never let anyone use me. One thing I always do is make up my own mind.” Then, watching his eyes, she suddenly exclaimed, “Noren, you don’t believe me! You really think you came here last night and got me to give something you’re sorry you asked for, when it wasn’t that way at all. You were the one who gave! You’ve given me the only chance I’ve ever had to be somebody.”

“I don’t see what you mean.”

“I’m—beautiful,” she said slowly, not in a boastful way, but as if it were some sort of burden.

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