Bearing an Hourglass Read Online Free PDF Page B

upper arm, soft through the material of her apparel and his. “Wake, wake, Norton, it’s all right!” she soothed.
    If she had a baby and it screamed in the night, even so would she comfort it—and what baby could be better off?
    “I’m awake,” he said. “You don’t need to—you shouldn’t be here.”
    “I couldn’t let you suffer,” she said. “Was it the ghost again?”
    “No, not this time. Just a bad dream. I’m afraid I’m not very good company.”
    “You were glowing so brightly!”
    He coughed. “That’s a false glow! I dreamed of you—that I destroyed you, without meaning to.”
    “No, the glow isn’t wrong,” she insisted. “I know you are right for me. In fact, if I weren’t already married—” She broke off, out of sorts. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that!”
    “I think I shouldn’t stay here any longer,” Norton said. “You are so nice—I would never want to be the instrument of—of any problem for you.”
    “You won’t be,” she said confidently. “I know.”
    She believed in her glow. But his dream had been compelling. In past times supposedly sensible men had disparaged dreams as mere visions of internal events, but recent research had verified their magical properties. He could not be sure this dream was prophetic, but he didn’t want to take the chance. “All the same, I think it would be better if I left.”
    “Oh, please, Norton, don’t do that!” she exclaimed. “It’s so difficult to be alone all the time! You’re the first who’s right. I’ll do anything you want—”
    “Orlene, I’m not trying to coerce you! I’m trying to protect you. From me, maybe. And I think I can do that best by leaving you.”
    “It’s morning,” she said abruptly. “I’ll fix us breakfast.”
    “Thank you. Then I’ll go.”
    She disengaged, stood, and hurried out. Norton got up, used the various facilities of the bathroom—and discovered that his clothes were gone. Orlene had evidently taken them for cleaning. The perfect housewife! “What do I do now?” he asked himself rhetorically.
    “You use my clothing,” Gawain replied. “It will fit you well enough. I had more muscle, but our frames are similar.”
    Norton realized he had no choice. Assisted by the ghost, he donned trousers, shirt, slippers, and an elegant robe. All of the clothing was of fine material and well made, and little golden dragons were embroidered on each item. “You
are
rich, aren’t you!” he muttered.
    “Definitely,” Gawain agreed. “I’m not in the Five Hundred, but I was a candidate. If I had lived long enough—” The ghost broke off, looking momentarily pensive. “My son will never lack for material things. He’ll be able to buy himself a Senatorial seat, if he wants to. I understand politics is more lucrative than dragon slaying.”
    “Good for your child,” Norton said shortly. “I’m not sure I’m going to sire it.”
    “Orlene won’t let you go,” the ghost warned. “She knows you’re the one.”
    “How can she stop me from leaving?”
    Gawain pursed his lips. “You’ve got something to learn about the wiles of women!”
    Norton brushed on out to rejoin Orlene, in no fit temper.
    She had breakfast ready: bright green pancakes fresh from the Venusian fungus farm, and what appeared to be genuine beehive honey. That figured. He had to smile, and his mood abated. He joined her at the cozy dinette table.
    Suddenly it seemed very domestic. He had never been the domestic type, but it was nice enough now. Orlene was very fetching in a green housecoat, her hair tied back with a scarlet ribbon. Green coat, honey hair, matching the pancakes and honey; did she do that unconsciously? But the ribbon—
    Scarlet? “You know, there’s an old song about scarlet ribbons—”
    “Yes,” she agreed. “I’ll play it for you after breakfast.”
    “You have it on tape?”
    She smiled obscurely. “No.”
    After breakfast she showed him to another room. There was a baby grand