Implied Spaces Read Online Free Page A

and then he sat up and crossed his legs.
    He was not without experience. He knew when he had been dismissed.
    Some people remember virtue and a spouse rather late, when it no longer really matters.
    “It’s extremely unlikely there will be a child,” he said, “but if there is, I desire you to send it to the College. Give them my name.”
    Again she turned, again alarm widened her eyes. “I thought you said—”
    “I’m not of the College,” he said, “but I have done them service, and they know me. You may request this in my name.” His tone took on a degree of urgency. “Particularly if it is a girl.”
    “I hope there is not a child.” Ashtra rose. “I want to remember this as a beautiful fantasy, not as a burden I will bear for the rest of my life.” She picked up the strap of her water bag and shouldered it.
    “I’d prefer not to be the subject of gossip by those in my caravan,” she said. “If you would wait half a glass before following, I would thank you.”
    “As you like, my lady,” said Aristide. “Though I would gladly carry your burden.”
    Ashtra made no reply. Swaying beneath the weight of the water bag, she made her way from the glade.
    Aristide stretched again on the grass and watched the willow branches moving against the dim sky. Gusting wind brought him the scent of flowers. There was a rustle in the grass, and he turned to see the black-and-white cat moving toward him.
    “Your attempt at chivalry is duly noted,” Bitsy said.
    “Sentimentality more than chivalry,” said the swordsman. “I liked her.” He rubbed his unshaven chin. “You know, she’s braver than she thinks she is.”
    “Brave or not, did you really mean to take that bewildered child to the Womb?”
    “If she desired it. Why not?” He sat up. The cat hopped onto his lap. Her upright tail drew itself across his chin.
    “I hope you appreciate my help in getting you laid,” Bitsy said.
    He sighed. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
    He stroked Bitsy for a few idle moments, then tipped her out of his lap and rose.
    “Perhaps I’ll ensure my next incarnation,” he said.
    Bitsy gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Is there so much on this journey,” she asked, “that you wish to remember?”
    Aristide shrugged. “Ants and spiders. And a pleasant interlude on a grassy bank.”
    As the swordsman passed through the camp, he saw the people had been stirred, like those selfsame ants with a stick. People were stowing tents and rugs, mending harness, sharpening weapons. Towering over everyone, Nadeer walked about giving orders. Voice booming, bells tinkling.
    Inside the caravanserai, the pool of life had a crowd of visitors. Some chanted, some prayed, others meditated. Some, men and women both, waded naked into the pool, their lips murmuring devotions. Aristide removed his clothes, handed the clothing and Tecmessa to an attendant, and walked into the pool.
    He followed broad steps downward until the silver liquid rose to his chest. His skin tingled at its touch. There were bodies at the bottom of the pool, and he felt for these with his feet to avoid treading on them. He waded between the devotees and touched the black menhir with one hand. The smooth surface felt prickly, as if a thousand tiny needles had pierced his fingertips.
    He eased himself backward into the fluid. It was the temperature of blood. The silver liquid lapped over his ears, his throat. He closed his eyes.
    In his ears he heard a deep throbbing. The throbbing was regular, hypnotic. His breathing shifted to match the rhythm of the throbbing.
    He slept. He sank, the silver fluid of the pool of life filling his mouth and nose.
    A few forlorn bubbles rose, and that was all.

    The glass turned twice before Aristide rose to the surface. He opened his eyes, took a breath of humid air. Slowly he swam to the rim of the pool, found a step beneath his feet, and rose.
    As he stepped from the pool the silver liquid poured off him in a single cascade, the