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"I asked you to teach me these things."
"You did not know what you asked."
He stretched a hand to her and she took it, though she remained standing. Her hand was cold, and it shook a little.
"I am still unable to understand all that you say," he told her.
"I pray that you never shall, my dear."
"You love me? I was afraid I had done something to destroy your love."
"I love you, Jherek".
"I wish only to change for you, to become whatever you wish me to be…"
"I would not have you change, Jherek Carnelian." A little smile appeared.
"Yet, you said…"
"You accused me, earlier, of not being myself." With a sigh she sat down upon the edge of his bed. She still wore the tattered oriental dress, but she had removed her feathers from her hair, which was restored to its natural colour, though not its original cut. Most of the paint was gone from her face. It was evident to him that she had slept no better than had he. His hand squeezed hers and she sighed for a second time. "Of not being your Amelia," she added.
"Not accused — but I was confused…"
"I tried, I suppose, to please you, but could not please myself. It seemed so wicked…" This smile was broader and it mocked her own choice of words. "I have been trying so hard, Jherek, to enjoy your world for what it is. Yet I am constantly haunted first by my own sense of duty, which I have no means of expressing, and second by the knowledge of what your world is — a travesty, artificially maintained, denying mortality and therefore defying destiny."
"Surely that is only one way of seeing it, Amelia."
"I agree completely. I describe only my emotional response. Intellectually I can see many sides, many arguments. But I am, in this, as in so many other things, Jherek, a child of Bromley. You have given me these power-rings and taught me how to use them — yet I am filled with a desire to grow a few marigolds, to cook a pie, to make a dress — oh, I feel embarrassed as I speak. It seems so silly, when I have all the power of an Olympian god at my disposal. It sounds merely sentimental, to my own ears. I ca
"I am not sure what sentimentality is, Amelia. I wish you to be happy, that is all. If that is where fulfilment lies for you, then do these things. They will delight me. You can teach me these arts."
"They are scarcely arts. Indeed, they are only desirable when one is denied the opportunity to practise them." Her laughter was more natural, though still it shook. "You can join in, if you wish, but I would not have you miserable. You must continue to express yourself as you wish, in ways that fulfil your instincts."
"As long as I can express myself the means is unimportant, Amelia. It is that frozen feeling that I fear. And it is true that I live for you, so that what pleases you pleases me."
"I make too many demands," she said, pulling away. "And offer nothing."
"Again you bewilder me."
"It is a bad bargain, Jherek, my dear."
"I was unaware that we bargained, Amelia. For what?"
"Oh…" she seemed unable to answer. "For life itself, perhaps. For something…" She gasped, as if in pain, but then smiled again, gripping his hand tighter. "It is as if a tailor visits Eden and sees an opportunity for trade. No, I am too hard upon myself, I suppose. I lack the words…"
"As do I, Amelia. If only I could find adequate phrases to tell you what I feel! But of one thing you must be certain. I love you absolutely." He flung back the bedclothes and sprang up, taking her hand to his breast. "Amelia, of that you must he assured!"
He noticed that she was blushing, trying to speak, swallowing rapidly. She made a gulping noise.
"What is it, my dear?"
"Mr. Carnelian — Jherek — you — you…"
"Yes, my love?" Solicitously.
She broke free, making for the door. "You seem unaware that you are — Oh, heavens!"
"Amelia!"
"You are quite naked, my dear." She reached the door and sped through. "I love you, Jherek. I love you! I will see you in the morning. Goodnight."
He sat down heavily upon his bed, scratching his knee and shaking his head, but he was smiling (if somewhat bewilderedly) when he stretched out again and pulled the sheets over himself and fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning they breakfasted and were happy. Both had slept well, both chose to discuss little of the previous day's events, although Amelia expressed an intention of trying to discover if, in any museum in any of the old cities, there might be preserved seeds which she could plant. Jherek thought that there were one or two likely places where they could look.
Shortly after breakfast, as she boiled water to wash the dishes, two visitors arrived. The Iron Orchid — in a surprisingly restrained gown of dark blue silk against which living butterflies beat dark blue wings, upon the arm of the bearded time-traveller, dressed, as always, in his Norfolk jacket and tweed plus-fours. That Amelia had set more than one fashion was obvious from the way in which the Iron Orchid demurely knocked upon the door and waited until Amelia, her hands quickly dried, her sleeves rolled down, answered it and smilingly admitted them to the sitting room.
"I am so sorry, Iron Orchid, for yesterday's rudeness," began Amelia. "An instinct, I suppose. I was worried about Harold. We visited the city and were longer than we expected."
The Iron Orchid listened patiently and with a hint of sardonic pleasure while Amelia's apologies ran their course.
"My dear, I told them nothing. Your mysterious disappearance only served to give greater spice to a wonderful creation. I see that you have not yet disseminated it…"
"Oh, dear. I shall do so presently."
"Perhaps it should be left? A kind of monument?"
"So close to the garden? I think not."
"Your taste ca
"You are very kind. Would you care for some tea?"
"Excellent!" said the time-traveller. He appeared to be in fine spirits. He rubbed his hands together. "A decent cup of English tea would be most welcome, dear lady."
They waited expectantly.
"I will put the kettle on."
"The kettle?" The Iron Orchid locked questioningly at the time-traveller.
"The kettle!" he breathed, as if the words had mystic significance for him. "Splendid."
In poorly disguised astonishment (for she had expected the tea to appear immediately), the Iron Orchid watched Amelia Underwood leave for the kitchen, just as Jherek came in.
"You are looking less pensive today, my boy."
"Most maternal of blossoms, I am completely without care! What a pleasure it is to see you. Good morning to you, sir."
"Morning," said the time-traveller. "I am staying, presently, at Castle Canaria. The Iron Orchid suggested that I accompany her. I hope that I do not intrude."
"Of course not." Jherek was still in a woollen dressing gown and striped nightshirt, with slippers on his feet. He signed for them to sit down and sat, himself, upon a nearby sofa. "Do the repairs to your craft progress well?"
"Very well! I must say — for all my reservations — your Lord Jagged — your father, that is — is a brilliant scientist. Understood exactly what was needed. We're virtually finished and just in time it seems — just waiting to test a setting. That's why I decided to drop over. I might not have another chance to say goodbye."
"You will continue your travels?"
"It has become a quest. Captain Bastable was able to give me a few tips, and if I get the chance to return to the Palaeozoic, where they have a base, I gather they'll be able to supply me with further information. I need, you see, to get back onto a particular track." The time-traveller began to describe complicated theories, most of them completely hypothetical and absolutely meaningless to Jherek. But he listened politely until Amelia returned with the tea-tray; he rose to take it from her and place it upon the low table between them and their guests.