Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [409]
She allowed her charfrul to slip and reveal her pale legs. Seeing cruelty everywhere, Robayday saw only the spider’s trap. Eagerly, he entered it. Later, they lay together and kissed, and she laughed prettily. He loved her and hated her.
All his impulses screamed to him to hurry on to Oldorando, yet he remained with her for another day. He hated her and he loved her.
The second evening in her house. He thought that history would cease if he remained for ever. She again let down her beautiful hair and hitched up her skirt, climbing onto the couch with him again.
They embraced. They made love. She was a well of delight. Abathy was starting to undress him for more prolonged enjoyment when there was a thumping at her door. They both sat up, startled.
A more violent thump. The door burst open, and in blundered a burly young fellow dressed in the uncouth Dimariamian fashion. It was Div Muntras, in bull-like quest of love.
‘Abathy!’ he cried. She yelled by way of reply.
After sailing alone to Ottassol, Div had traced his way to her by diligent enquiry. He had sold everything he possessed, except for the talismanic watch stolen from Billish, which reposed safe in his body belt. And here, at the end of the trail, he found the girl who had dominated his thoughts ever since she idled voluptuously with his father on the deck of the Lordryardry Lady trittoming with another man.
His face altered into the image of rage. He raised his fists. He bellowed and charged forward.
Robayday jumped up and stood on the couch, his back to the wall. His face was dark with anger at the intrusion. That the king’s son should be shouted at – and at such a moment! He had no thought but to kill the intruder. In his belt was a dagger shaped from a phagor horn, a sharp two-sided instrument. He drew it.
Div was further enraged by the sight of the weapon. He could soon dispose of this slight lad, this meddler.
Abathy screamed at him, but he paid no heed. She stood with both hands to her pretty mouth, eyes wide in terror. That pleased Div. She would be next.
He rushed to the attack, landing on the couch with a leap. He received the point of the horn just below his lowest rib. The tip grated against the rib as it slid in. His charge ensured that it went into his flesh to the hilt, penetrating the spleen and the stomach, at which point the handle broke off in his opponent’s hand.
A long baffled groan escaped Div. Liquids gushed over the wall as he fell against it and slipped to the floor.
Raging, Robayday left the girl to weep. He fetched two men who disposed of the corpse by tossing it into the Takissa.
Robayday ran from the city, as if pursued by mad dogs. He never returned to the girl or to the room. He had an appointment which he had been in danger of forgetting, an appointment in Oldorando. Over and again, he wept and cursed along the road.
Carried by the current, turning as it went, the body of Div Muntras drifted among the shipping to the mouth of the Takissa. No one saw it go, for most folk, even slaves, were indulging in a grand assatassi fry. Fish moved in to give the corpse their attention as the sodden mass was taken into the maw of the sea, to become part of the progression of waters westwards, towards Gravabagalinien.
That evening, when the suns sank, simple people came down to the beaches and headlands. In all the countries whose boundaries were lapped by the Sea of Eagles, in Randonan, Borlien, Thribriat, Iskahandi, and Dimariam, crowds gathered by the water’s edge.
The great assatassi feast was ending. Here was a time to pause and give thanks for such blessings to the spirit who dwelt in the waters.
While women sang and danced on the sand, their menfolk waded into the sea bearing little boats. The boats were leaves, on which short candles burned, giving off a sweet scent.
On every