The Ships of Aleph Read Online Free PDF Page A

satisfaction, I could safely talk with her at length, rationalising the pleasure this gave me as a worthy one. Although knowledgeable about those parts of the world she had seen she was, I soon realised, a little simple. I also thought her remarkably incurious, but then I thought that about most people.
    I slept better that night, until I woke in the darkness, confused. Then the sound came again: a woman’s incoherent cry.
    I leapt from my bed and ran to Merel’s room. I found her tangled in the bedding, her mind caught in some nightmare. ‘Wake up,’ I called. When she did not respond I called again, louder. Still she moaned and thrashed.
    I caught her hand. Suddenly she stopped and opened her eyes, looking at me first with fear, then with slow recognition. Her wrist was warm and frail in my grasp.
    Her face creased and she began to cry. Without thought I gathered her to me, holding her while she wept. When the tears passed, I did not let go, and she did not pull away. Instead she nestled into my arms. My world was filled with her intoxicating presence, so intense I could barely breathe.
    I knew I should let her go, but she was more real than my books, more real than this place. Trying to break the spell, I murmured, ‘I will leave you to rest.’
    I felt her shake her head. ‘Don’t go. Stay with me.’
    I wasn’t sure she was asking what I thought she was. Then she lifted a hand and stroked my face.
    The next morning I was torn between elation and guilt. But as I looked down on Merel’s sleeping form, I decided I had no reason to feel guilty. She was happy, and that made me happy. I had found something I hadn’t even known I was missing.
     
    ***
     
    My next angelic visit occurred two days later. I had told Merel about the angel, and the workings of my – our – strange home, though I did not mention my previous small rebellions. They were in the past now, irrelevant.
    Merel was apprehensive about meeting the angel, so I said she didn’t have to. I was secretly glad of her reticence, for I had questions she might be happier not hearing. I started with the obvious one:
    ‘Why is she here?’
    It replied with a question of its own: ‘Are you not happy?’
    ‘Yes, yes I am. But ... why her? And why now? Will there be others?’
    ‘Those are questions I cannot answer.’
    I knew better than to pursue the matter. Instead I told myself that even if, as I suspected, Merel had been plucked from her doom merely to provide company for me, I had done one good thing in my life by inadvertently saving hers.
    Merel and I settled into life together as summer waxed. She took on the cultivation of the garden, a task I missed a little at first, though I was glad she had found something to occupy her. She also cooked and cleaned; not that I hadn’t done these things before but she applied herself to them fully. Our house became her pride; she started to mend clothes, and sew new ones, even though such tasks were not necessary when the angel would bring whatever was requested within the bounds of its remit.
    It occurred to me that, things being what they were, one day it might be more than the two of us in our house. I asked her about this one summer evening as we sat outside the cottage, my arm around her while she sewed in the golden light. She dipped her head. ‘I’m sorry, Lachin, but the raiders gave their bondswomen a certain herb. I only took it for a season but the effects are permanent. There can never be children.’  
    I could have asked the angel whether it was possible to reverse the effects of the drug – God had cured my lameness, after all – but I was still unsure how I felt about the idea of a child. It had not been something I’d given much thought to in my old life, and none at all here. I decided that unless Merel wished otherwise, I would leave things as they were.
    We had plenty to fill our time without the need for anyone else. Merel displayed a skill and enthusiasm in the ways of physical love