Poul Anderson: A Circus of Hells

“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 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.