A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part five

and smart, not to mention beautiful and charming. On top of that,

there’s this practically unique wild talent of yours. And Ydwyr wouldn’t

be hard to convince you’re zigzagged back to him. Our Navy Intelligence

will jump for joy to have you, after I pass word along the channels open

to me. We’d see each other often, I daresay, perhaps now and then we’d

work together … why, even if they get you into the Roidhunate as a

double agent–”

He stopped. Horror confronted him.

“What … what’s the matter?” he faltered.

Her lips moved several times before she could speak. Her eyes stayed dry

and had gone pale, as if a flame had passed behind them. There was no

hue at all in her face.

“You too,” she got out.

“Huh? I don’t–”

She checked him by lifting a hand. “Everybody,” she said, “as far back

as I can remember. Ending with Ydwyr, and now you.”

“What in cosmos?”

“Using me.” Her tone was flat, not loud in the least. She stared past

him. “You know,” she said, “the funny part is, I wanted to be used. I

wanted to give, serve, help, belong to somebody … But you only saw a

tool. A thing. Every one of you.”

“Djana, I give you my word of honor–”

“Honor?” She shook her head, slowly. “It’s a strange feeling,” she told

her God, in a voice turned high and puzzled, like that of a child who

cannot understand, “to learn, once and forever, that there’s no one who

cares. Not even You.” She squared her shoulders. “Well, I’ll manage.”

Her look focused on Flandry, who sat helpless and gaping. “As for you,”

she said levelly, “I guess I can’t stop you from having almost any woman

who comes by. But I’ll wish this, that you never get the one you really

want.”

He thought little of her remark, then. “You’re overwrought,” he said,

hoping sharpness would work. “Drunk. Hysterical.”

“Whatever you want,” she said wearily. “Please go away.”

He left, and arranged for a doss elsewhere. Next mornwatch the ship

landed on Ysabeau. Djana walked down the gangway without saying goodbye

to Flandry. He watched her, shrugged, sighed–Women! The aliens among

us!–and sauntered alone toward the shuttle into town, where he could

properly celebrate his victory.

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