Dream Called Time Read Online Free PDF

of the environome. “They’ve changed everything around so much I don’t know where it is.”
    “Of course.” He led me to a lift, and then whisked us off to another deck.
    The oKiaf didn’t indulge in any small talk, but I welcomed the silence. Every time someone opened their mouth, I heard something else that I didn’t want to know. It would be great to spend a couple of hours not knowing.
    The galley was mostly empty, but the few crew members who were dining there only offered up a smile or a nod before returning their attention to their meals. I never knew Jorenians to be so standoffish, so either that had changed, too, or Xonea had said something to the crew.
    At the prep unit, I pulled up the menu programmed for Terrans and read through the list. Most of the dishes were Reever’s preferences, although there were several synpro dishes I didn’t recognize. Since I usually couldn’t stomach the alien fare my husband enjoyed, I selected one of the odd ones. The unit produced what appeared to be a small, slithery heap of gelatinous, uncooked flesh sprinkled with spike-edged purple and red leaves.
    P.S., the odor was worse than the presentation.
    “Where did Duncan pick up this recipe?” I muttered, examining the plate. “Waste world?”
    “That is ptar belly with ice leaves,” the oKiaf told me. “It is a delicacy on Akkabarr.”
    Oh. Her food. Raw flesh and ugly herbs. God only knew what she had been putting in my stomach for the last five years. I dumped the plate and its contents into the disposal unit. “Shon, is there anything on your menu a Terran can eat without a lot of puking afterward?”
    He dialed up some sort of soup and flat bread. Since the scent of it didn’t turn my stomach, I carried it to a table and sat down. He brought an identical meal for himself, and two servers of a hot, golden brew.
    “Kapelat,” he told me as he offered me one of the drinks. “It will settle your stomach.”
    I tried a sip. It wasn’t tooth-numbingly sweet like so many Jorenian teas, but had a mellow tang that went down easily. “It’s good. Thanks.”
    The soup, while unlike anything made by Terrans, was vegetable-based, and had a strange but agreeable flavor. The chewy flat bread had a strong, darker taste to it, but paired well with the soup. My tight throat didn’t want to cooperate, but the kapelat was an effective soother, and I managed to finish half the meal.
    My companion didn’t make it obvious that he was watching me eat, but he stopped as soon as I did. That reminded me that some species considered it rude to continue dining when others had finished.
    “Go ahead, keep eating,” I said. “It’s not the food. It’s me.”
    “There are some matters I would discuss with you, Healer Torin,” the oKiaf said.
    “Cherijo.”
    He inclined his head. “As you have no memory of our—of my interactions with your former self, I feel I should tell you of them, and what I discovered from them.”
    “Are you going to use the word ‘terrible’?” I demanded. He shook his head. “All right, then. Tell me.”
    “During the brief time that I knew Jarn, I developed intimate feelings for her. I fell in love with her.” He sounded gruff, as if it was hard for him to admit. “And because of those emotions, I attempted to seduce her.”
    Was this the reason Reever was treating me like a contagious disease? Guilt over what the slave girl had done with my body? “Did she go for it?”
    “Did she . . . ah, no.”
    “That’s too bad.” No, it wasn’t, but I didn’t have to stomp on the guy’s heart. I was curious, though. “Why would you fall for a Terran? We’re not exactly at the top of everyone’s crossbreed-mating wish list.” When he started unfastening the front of his tunic, I flashed up a hand. “Whoa, wait a second. I don’t need you to show me anything.”
    “It is only this.” He pulled aside his tunic to reveal two parallel vertical rows of golden fur.
    “They’re, uh, very