A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part five

from the cleared-away dishes, and with the perfume she had chosen. Her

great eyes fell to rest and he could not dip his own from them.

“You use that word a lot,” she said, quiet-voiced. “Love.”

“Appropriate, isn’t it?” Uneasiness tugged at him.

“Is it? What do you intend to do, Nicky?”

“Why … make a dummy trip to ‘claim my inheritance.’ Not that anybody’d

check on me especially, but it’s an excuse to play tourist. When my

leave’s up, I report to Terra, no less, for the next assignment. I

daresay somebody in a lofty echelon has gotten word about the Talwin

affair and wants to talk to me–which won’t hurt the old career a bit,

eh?”

“You’ve told me that before. You know it’s not what I meant. Why have

you never said anything about us?”

He reached for a cigarette while taking a fresh swallow of brandy. “I

have, I have,” he countered, smiling hard. “With a substantial sum in

your purse, you should do well if you make the investments I suggested.

They’ll buy you a peaceful life on a congenial planet; or, if you prefer

to shoot for larger stakes, they’ll get you entry into at least the

cellars of the haut monde. ”

She bit her lip. “I’ve been dreading this,” she said.

“Hey? Uh, you may’ve had a trifle more than optimum to drink, Djana.

I’ll ring for coffee.”

“No.” She clenched fingers about the stem of her glass, raised it and

tossed off the contents in a gulp. Setting it down: “Yes,” she said, “I

did kind of guzzle tonight. On purpose. You see, I had to form the habit

of not thinking past any time when I was feeling good, because knowing a

bad time was sure to come, I’d spoil the good time. A … an inhibition.

Ydwyr taught me how to order my inhibitions out of my way, but I didn’t

want to use any stunt of that bastard’s–”

“He’s not a bad bastard. I’ve grown positively fond of him.”

“–and besides, I wanted to pull every trick in my bag on you, and for

that I needed to be happy, really happy. Well, tonight’s my last chance.

Oh, I suppose I could stay around a while–”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Flandry said in haste. He’d been looking forward

to searching for variety in the fleshpots of the Empire. “I’ll be too

peripatetic.”

Djana shoved her glass toward him. He poured, a clear gurgle in a

silence where, through the humming, he could hear her breathe.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “I had to know tonight. That’s why I got a touch

looped, to help me ask.” She lifted the glass. Her gaze stayed on his

while she drank. Stars made a frosty coronet for her hair. When she had

finished, she was not flushed. “I’ll speak straight,” she said. “I

thought … we made a good pair, Nicky, didn’t we, once things got

straightened out? … I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask if you’d like to

keep on. No, wait, I don’t have any notions about me as an agent. But I

could be there whenever you got back.”

Well, let’s get it over with. Flandry laid a hand on one of hers. “You

honor me beyond my worth, dear,” he said. “It isn’t possible–”

“I supposed not.” Had Ydwyr taught her that instant steely calm? “You’d

never forget what I’ve been.”

“I assure you, I’m no prude. But–”

“I mean my turnings, my treasons … Oh, let’s forget I spoke, Nicky,

darling. It was just a hope. I’ll be fine. Let’s enjoy our evening

together; and maybe, you know, maybe sometime we’ll meet again.”

The thought slashed through him. He sat straight with a muttered

exclamation. Why didn’t that occur to me before?

She stared. “Is something wrong?”

He ran angles and aspects through his head, chuckled gleefully at the

result, and squeezed her fingers. “Contrariwise,” he said, “I’ve hit on

a sort of answer. If you’re interested.”

“What? I–What is it?”

“Well,” he said, “you brushed off the idea of yourself in my line of

work as a fantasy, but weren’t you too quick? You’ve proven you’re tough

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