Implied Spaces Read Free Page B

gods.”
    “I wouldn’t take that seriously,” Aristide said.
    The scholar peered at him. “You have information?”
    “No. Merely confidence. I think the force present here can handle any mob of evil cultists, especially if we act under a single leader—and apparently Nadeer is that leader.”
    “The ogre?” Souza wrinkled his face. “Talk about choice …”
    “Each to his own,” said Aristide. “But in any case you should prepare the children to move on in the next few dozen turns of the glass.”
    “I’m secretly relieved, to tell the truth,” Souza said. “Young children separated from their families for the first time, and stuck for months at a desert oasis with nothing to do.” He grimaced. “You can imagine the scenes we’ve had.”
    “I’m sure.”
    Souza narrowed his eyes. “You’re not a missionary yourself, I take it?”
    “No. I’m a scholar of the implied spaces.”
    Souza was puzzled. “I—” he began, then fell silent as a group of Free Companions approached.
    “We’ll speak later, on the journey,” Aristide said.
    “Yes.” Souza bowed. “It’s good to have someone to talk to.”
    Souza returned to the camp. Aristide squatted and refilled his water bottle while he listened to the convoy guards. Their speech was loud but without interest. After the guards left, Aristide drank, then filled his water bottle again as he watched a tall blue heron glide among the reeds on the far side of the water.
    He heard a step and the soft rustle of robes, and turned to see a young woman crouching by the lagoon, lowering a large leather sack into the water by its strap. Water gurgled into its open mouth.
    The hair peeking from beneath the young woman’s headdress was light brown. Her eyes were blue. A slight sunburn touched her nose and cheeks.
    “I am reminded of the verse,” said Aristide.

      “Butterflies make music over water
     The green boughs dance in company.
     The brown-haired woman bends over the water
     Graceful as a willow branch.”
     
    A blush touched her cheeks, darkened the sunburn. Water gurgled into the sack.
    “I haven’t seen you before,” she said. Her voice was barely heard over the rustle of leaves and the sigh of wind.
    “I am Aristide, a traveler. I arrived a few turns of the glass ago.” Softly, he sang.

      “ This sack of water, a heavy burden.
     The maiden staggers beneath the weight.
     What thoughtless man has given her this charge?”
     
    The woman looked quickly down at the water and her water bag.
    “The water is my own. I travel alone.”
    “You must allow me to carry the weight for you.”
    She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Bitsy appeared from the trees and rubbed against the woman’s leg. The woman scratched it behind an ear.
    “Is the cat yours?’
    “Her name is Bitsy.”
    “Bitsy,” she repeated, idly scratching. The cat looked up at her and purred.
    “You neglected to tell me your name,” Aristide reminded.
    A soft smile fluttered at the corners of her lips.
    “My name is Ashtra,” she said.
    “And you travel alone?”
    She glanced down at the water. “My husband is in Gundapur. He’s sent for me.”
    Aristide looked at her closely. “At the mention of your husband I detect a strain of melancholy.”
    “I haven’t seen him for seven years. He’s been on a long trading journey with an uncle.” She gazed sadly across the placid water as she scratched the purring cat. “He’s very rich now, or so his letter said.”
    “And he sent for you without providing an escort? That bespeaks a level of carelessness.”
    “He sent two swordsmen,” Ashtra said. “But they heard of a war in Coël, and went to join the army instead of taking me to Gundapur.”
    “I think somewhat better of your husband, then, but not as much as if he’d come himself. Or at least sent money.”
    “Perhaps he did, but if so the swordsmen took it.” Her blue eyes turned to him. “I don’t even remember what he looks like. I was