Frank & Brian Herbert Man of two worlds

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consequences!
"Could we not wait for Mugly's return?" he pleaded. "This whole thing was his
idea."
"I fear Mugly will not return," she said.
Shock upon shock! Mugly . . . not . . . returning? What perilous task had
Habiba given him?
"Are you . . . sure, Habiba?"
"I am sure."
"But . . . Mugly's helpers are still . . . I mean, there's Luhan. He could .
. ."
"Luhan? This is no time for jests!"
"I was not --"
"That's worse! I give you a direct order: Take the ship to Earth and erase
that hideous place.
At once! If you leave now, I have calculated it will be over within forty
hours."
"Habiba, you predicted catastrophe if we --"
"At once, Jongleur!"
"Will I, too, not . . . return?"
"You may survive but it is unlikely you will return." Her tone softened. "It
saddens me for us to part this way."
She would not be swayed. He saw this. "May I have time for a few last words
with my family?" he pleaded.
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"That would only spread sadness and fear. Go to the ship. Do what must be
done."
"And Ryll . . . my son . . . on Earth?"
"You're stalling, Jongleur! Earth must go! The fate of everyone in that
dreadful creation is sealed."
That word again: Fate.
Habiba pointed to the door. "Go! Forty hours from now, there must be no
Earth."
Trembling and faltering, Jongleur departed. He felt that he shed his past as
some creatures shed their skins. But a heavier load replaced his past. Who
would have thought a future could have such weight? The eternal now he once
had enjoyed -- erased. Future and past became alien.
Outside, Jongleur threaded his way through bands of the Elite huddled in the
Control Cone's dim night lights, fearing to enter Habiba's presence without a
summons. They called to him:
"Jongleur! What of Habiba? Why are you downcast?"
He could only shake his head.
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But now he realized why Habiba had looked down at him from an elevation. She
could not bring herself to look me straight in the eyes.
"Something is wrong!" one of the Elite shouted. "You must tell us what is
happening!"
Sadness and fear. His very presence spread that awful mixture. And I am
powerless to do anything but obey Habiba. I am her Chief Storyteller. And
this is the consequence!
Great danger exists in the constant certainty that you have always made proper
decisions.
-- Graeco-Dreen aphorism
Ryll felt like a conspirator as he slipped into the tradesmen's door of the
Madison where an advance party of the Secret Service detained a service
elevator. Up they went to Nishi's floor, guards around him grinning. Some
had seen Nishi. Word of her beauty and background on Venus had spread. They
knew why he came here with such secrecy.
But Nishi herself had asked him to make "an immediate visit" and her message
did not explain the reason.
The squirming presence of Wytee in his suitcoat pocket dictated that he obey
the summons.
You not go Nishi Wytee hurt head.
Ryll had experienced enough of Wytee's enforcement to know he could not resist
the Soother.
Nishi greeted him in her parlor, the bedroom door behind her open to reveal
street clothes thrown over a chair. She wore a thin nightgown under a blue
housecoat. Matching pom-pom slippers covered her feet.
"Is it Ryll or Lutt?" she greeted him.
"Ryll," he said. "What do you --"
"I am doing this for Mrs. Ebey. Lutt's father treated her shamelessly. You
must correct this."
"Yes, but Wytee is . . . is . . ."
Ryll not talk Wytee! Talk love cure!
Ryll almost sagged with the force of the projection.
Nishi blushed. "Wytee . . . is . . . talking to me," she whispered. "It
wants me to . . . I
can't!"
You go Nishi bed, Wytee ordered.
Ryll shuddered and, as Wytee gave him a taste of enforcement, grabbed his
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head. Please . . . no!
No, Wytee! No!
Hey! Lutt intruded. If you don't wanta, I will.
Wytee's response was immediate. A surge of agony shot up their spine.
"Ryll, what is it?" Nishi asked, seeing him stagger.
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"Hurting . . . my . . . head."
"Mother of God!" Nishi put her hands over her mouth.
You go Nishi bed! Wytee repeated and emphasized the order with a brief shot
of pain.
Ryll fell against Nishi. She held him with surprising strength. "Oh, Ryll .
. . I'm sorry."
"What am I to do?" Ryll moaned.
That's a stupid question, Lutt offered. Do it. And I wanta participate.
Ryll tried to pull away from Nishi but she held him even more tightly. "No,"
he whispered.
At least let me share, Lutt insisted.
No!
You're nothing but a damn spoilsport!
What Wytee asks . . . it is not sport.
Lutt was amused. Sure it is.
Nishi put her lips close to Ryll's ear and stroked his head. "Do you still
hurt?"
"Not . . . not much."
She put an arm around him and, supporting his faltering steps, steered him
toward the bedroom.
"Where . . . where are we going?" Ryll whispered.
Nishi spoke with candid practicality. "I cannot remain a virgin forever."
"Ohhh, Nishi . . . no."
You not do Nishi love cure Wytee hurt head bad!
"I got that," Nishi said.
They reached the bedroom -- flouncy Empire decor with a green-canopied bed.
Nishi eased Ryll backward until he tumbled across a soft comforter. She began
removing her clothes. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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