After the Downfall

Now that he had to talk, he felt tongue-tied. How long had it been since he really talked to a woman? The last time you did with Velona, he answered himself. But that wasn’t the same thing: they’d been lovers before they could talk to each other at all.

It had to be back before the war, then. After the fighting started, he’d sweet-talked French shopgirls and Russian peasants into bed with him, but that wasn’t the same, either. With them, as with the Grenye women here, he wasn’t doing anything but screwing. Life got complicated when you wanted more than that.

Well, if he chickened out now, he’d probably never get another chance with Drepteaza. Hell, if he chickened out now, he wouldn’t deserve another chance. Faint heart never won fair lady. The worst that could happen if she told him to get lost was … he’d feel even more miserable than he already did.

He jabbed a thumb at his own chest. “I am no Lenello,” he declared. Was he getting it out in the open or just being clumsy? Damned if he knew.

“Yes, I’ve seen that,” Drepteaza agreed gravely. “When you first got here, I wasn’t sure what you were. Now I think you are what you say you are: a man from another world who joined the Lenelli because you found yourself among them – and because you looked like them.”

Hasso could have done without that last. But, when he saw three little dark men chasing one tall blond woman, what was he supposed to think? Had he seen three Lenelli chasing one Grenye woman – well, who could say what he would have done? Life wasn’t in the habit of letting you take it over.

He made himself nod. “Yes, I look like. But am not.” He pointed at himself again.

“I told you, I know that,” Drepteaza replied. “It matters less than you think, I’m afraid. You still do look like one. I don’t see how I could want someone who looks like that.”

There it was, plain as a wet fish in the face. “You look like a Grenye,” Hasso said. “Doesn’t bother me.”

That surprised her – he could see as much. Her answering smile was sweet and sad. “Plenty of Lenelli have lain with Grenye women. Most men are less choosy than most women. When they want, they take whatever they can find.”

“For screwing, sure.” Speaking Bucovinan, Hasso had to be blunt, too. “If screwing all I want, I be happy with Leneshul and Gishte. More to life than just screwing, I think. Yes? No? Maybe?”

“Yes – sometimes,” Drepteaza said. “You flatter me, you know?” She had to explain what flatter meant. When Hasso nodded, she went on, “I don’t think a Lenello would waste his time talking like this. He would think I was his because he was a Lenello and I wasn’t.”

“Not a Lenello,” Hasso said one more time. He slipped an arm around her, drew her close to him, and kissed her.

She didn’t scream or beat him over the head or even try to get away. She just… didn’t kiss him back. If a one-sided kiss wasn’t the most useless thing in the world, Hasso had no idea what would be. He broke it off in a hurry.

“I’m sorry,” Drepteaza said, his hand still dead on her shoulder. “It isn’t there. I almost wish it were – things might be simpler. But I won’t lie to you. Do you want me to leave you alone and have nothing to do with you from now on? Would that be easier for you? I’ll do it if you want.”

She would do almost anything if he wanted her to – except what he really wanted her to do. Lord Zgomot, dammit, wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. Hasso shook his head. “What difference does it make?” he said dully. As if in afterthought, he lifted his hand.

Drepteaza didn’t slide across the bench to put some distance between them. She sat where she was, confident he wouldn’t do anything more than he’d already done. He had no idea where to go from there. He didn’t see anything he could do or say that would make any difference. Muttering, he heaved himself to his feet and strode off.

“Hasso!” she called after him. “Hasso Pemsel!”

He kept walking. She said something no well-brought-up German woman would have imagined, let alone said. Was it aimed at him or at herself or at both of them at once? He didn’t know, and he told himself he didn’t care.

When he went back into the palace, he ran into Gishte – almost literally. She was carrying an armload of clean linens up a corridor. “Come with me,” he said.

“Right now?” She sounded surprised, and maybe a little annoyed, too – couldn’t he see she had other things to take care of?

But he nodded. “Right now.”

She sighed. “Men!” She went with him, though.

Back in his chamber, he did what he chose to do. When it was over, she got up and squatted over the chamber pot to free herself of as much of his seed as she could, put on her clothes, picked up the linens, and left. He lay there, no happier than he had been before he went into her.

You can’t get too much of what you don’t want.