North Wind Read Online Free PDF

trailed it like a bullfighter’s cape across the forecourt, singing:
“L’amour est comme un enfant sauvage,
qui n’a jamais connu la loi…”
     
    He’d reached a wide stone basin, where an Aleutian gardener was trying to grow roses. He’d forgotten the next line. Di-dada da! Di-dada da! he chanted; he pulled a rose and flung himself at Goodlooking’s feet, snatching another phrase out of oblivion—
“Si je t’aime prends garde de toi!”
    The aliens standing around applauded, human style: they knew how to do that. Goodlooking recoiled from the broken stem of the flower. She remembered her manners.
    “It doesn’t matter,” Sidney told her, grinning. “With a mug like mine, you get used to reactions like that from the girls.” He headed off for his quarters, swinging his tool bag jauntily.
    Maitri took his ward’s arm, and led him away. Sheets of quarantine film drifted from them as they walked, and were nibbled up by the busy air.
    “Don’t let Sid’s cabaret upset you. It’s a form of shyness.”
    They had spoken English together since Goodlooking was a little child. Their shared passion for everything to do with the giant planet was a bond between them.
    “I know that. But I wish he wouldn’t call me ‘she.’”
    “It’s natural to him. It’d be the height of rudeness if he didn’t award you a gender. In the old days, they identified some of us as feminine or masculine people on sight—with uncanny accuracy, I may say, as far as one cares about such things.”
    The Aleutians recognized among themselves a spectrum of personality traits, which seemed to them to match quite closely what humans regarded as “masculine” and “feminine” qualities. It had to be said, the humans did not agree! All very confusing, particularly since in Aleutia, worrying about whether you were “masculine” or “feminine” was the sign of a trivial mind, not a cause for a shooting war.
    “Don’t fret about it,” added Maitri, cuddling the thin little arm closer to his side.
     
    They strolled, at a gentle pace. The Greek landscape shimmered through the dome, blurred by a silky cloud of Aleutian life. In front of the disk-works, artisans were dolefully crumbling a pile of their products into dust.
    “We’re closing the plant,” said Maitri. “I must go and tell everyone how important their work here has been, and so on.”
    “Is it true?”
    “No! But what’s the first rule of good management, child?”
    Goodlooking smiled. “Praise.”
    They reached a bench of local material, set where the artisans liked to sit and take the air. Maitri paused as if by chance. He folded himself down, drawing Goodlooking beside him. He knew his invalid’s capacities to a step.
    “You know,” said Maitri grimly,” The Expedition has enemies out in orbit. They’re going to use this mystery upset against us. Where did we go wrong? That’s the question. It can’t be those mountains! I suppose we’ll find out one day,” he mused, wearily. “The locals will tell us, lives from now, when they’re not angry with us and it doesn’t matter anymore. That’s the way people are.”
    Goodlooking thought of his friend. Sid had no sympathy with the protestors, but he dreaded the Himalaya project. He had never put it into formal words, but Goodlooking knew that his fear was visceral: seeming beyond his rational control. He said nothing. It wasn’t the moment for a mere librarian to tell Lord Maitri that he didn’t understand the locals.
    “I wanted to talk to you.” began Maitri. “I’m going to be very busy. We may not have another chance….”
    Goodlooking had known a crisis was imminent, but this struck him like a blow. “Is the shuttle coming for me?” he cried. “Oh, Daddy, I don’t want to go. Let me stay with you, please.”
    Maitri’s dark nasal contracted.
    Goodlooking looked into his face: and Maitri’s arms went out. For a moment