Later, when Reith stood at the rail, watching the sea drift past, Marot said quietly: "Fergus, my friend, I do not pry into such matters; but I could not avoid hearing some of your conversation. If there is anything I can do ..."
"You can tell me how not to fall in love with a former wife—or, I ought to say, how to fall out of love with her. I can't seem to get over her, no matter what she does."
Marot sighed. "The poet Ovid had some advice: Do not see her. Burn her letters and other reminders of her. Keep busy. Engage in the sports. Take a journey. Avoid sentimental books and plays. And finally, find another woman. I cannot improve on these suggestions."
"Most of them are completely impracticable aboard the Kubitar. But thanks anyway."
XI - THE SHIP
For the next two days, Alicia and Reith treated each other with cold formality, seldom speaking save when circumstances demanded. They resumed employment of given names, since "Mr. Reith" and "Doctor Dyckman" seemed silly between two who, whatever their current feelings, had known each other so intimately. But to Reith she was now always "Alicia," never "Lish."
He tried to treat her with the same neutral, impersonal politeness that he had found effective with his tourists; but the contradictory emotions that her presence aroused made this hard. Although he had heard of "love-hate" relationships, this was the first time that one had struck him with all its brutal force.
An old love, he found, dies hard, even when it has been kicked around and trampled. But so do old animosities. He supposed that, for this reason, most divorced couples, even with the best intentions, would find it difficult to be "just friends." Every time they got together, the mere presence of the other would stir up a witch's brew of conflicting emotions in each: loving tenderness from the memory of the good times they had shared; but also rankling resentment of hostile words and deeds from the bad times. Hence each meeting would be likely to erupt either into frantic lovemaking or into a furious quarrel.
The warm south wind carried the Kubitar briskly eastward into th& broad Sadabao Sea. On the second day from Damovang, the course veered to the north, and the ship hove to for the complicated process of shifting the boom of the lateen foresail from one side of the mast to the other.
For the rest of the day, the Kubitar ran wing-and-wing, like some gigantic leather-winged aqebat. As swells crept up behind and forged past, the vessel pitched with the slow, easy motion of a porch swing. Nevertheless, Aristide Marot looked more and more unhappy. He finally fed his breakfast to the piscoids.
"The poor fellow's as green as a Krishnan," said Alicia. "Aristide, why don't you work on your fossils, to take your mind off things?"
"But no! With the ship moving in this manner, some piece might roll overboard. I think I shall go in and lie down."
"My experience," said Reith, "is that it's better to stay on your feet. Then your body remains vertical despite the ship's motion."
"Thank you, my friend," said Marot. "You are a great comfort." But he went into the cabin.
The rugged hills of Cape Dirkash, beyond which Reith and Marot had been snatched from the train by the Bákhites, rose from the sea a few hoda to port. The yellow sun glared in a blue-green sky, and the temperature climbed swiftly. Fanning herself with her hat, Alicia, breaking the near-silence between them, said: "I've never seen it so hot and sticky. Those sailors have the right idea." She nodded towards the Krishnans, who were going about their duties naked but for coats of grease.
Reith had not intended to let himself be drawn into chitchat with Alicia, but the temptation to lecture a willing pupil proved too strong. "It's this running free," he said. "When you go with the wind, the velocity of the ship is subtracted from that of the air. So, if we have a ten-knot breeze and are sailing at five, the wind passes us at five knots, which is practically a calm. Besides, the humidity is a hundred percent at sea level, so of course we're sticky."
"No use being more uncomfortable than we must. Wait here a minute." She disappeared into the cabin and came out with her new sewing kit. "Now take off your clothes, and I'll sew up those rips and tears." She stripped off her own torn khakis and ragged underwear. "Aristide would be embarrassed, but he's asleep in his bunk. Sewing is my only domestic accomplishment—though I daresay I could learn others."
Reith stripped and handed her the garments. Then he got his sword from the cabin and, standing at the rail with his back to her, devoted himself to removing the peace wires that bound the hilt to the sheath. If he let himself gaze upon her splendid pink-and-ivory body, he knew his frustrated passions would become all too visible.
All the long afternoon, Alicia worked away. When she handed Reith back his clothes, he could not resist exclaiming: "But that's marvelous, Alicia! You've made my rags as good as new. Thank you very much!"
"You're welcome, Fergus. Sorry I can't mend everything so easily." She rose and slipped on her shorts. "Now I'm going to pester the captain for some sociological data. See you at dinner." With the grace of a professional dancer, she walked aft to where the gruff, taciturn Gendu leaned on the after rail, with one eye on the sails, another on the helmsman, and a cigar between his teeth.
An hour later, as Roqir winked out behind the hills of Cape Dirkash, Alicia came back to where Reith stood at the rail, staring morosely at the sea. Her face now bore an evasive little smile.
"What now?" said Reith, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be coldly furious. "I see that something's happened."
"Nothing much. The captain has asked me to share his bunk tonight, just as Sarf did on the Morkerád."
"These Krishnan big shots have good taste in Terran women, anyway. What did you decide?"
"Why? Would you mind? The day before yesterday you practically urged me to give the captain my all."
Reith's lips tightened, his face flushed, and his jaw became rigid. At last he forced himself to say: "I'm sorry I was rude; I was in a bad temper. As to what you do, it's entirely your affair. If you want one more native lover, it's not my place to advise you."
She flinched but forced a smile, coming close and looking appealingly up. "Are you sure? Because if you really don't care, I can go back and say I've changed my mind; that I'll sleep with him after all."
"You mean you turned him down?" Despite his efforts to maintain a poker face, Reith felt his expression lightening.
"Yes. But what difference does that make to you?"
"Of course I—" Reith began with some heat. Then he took a grip on himself. "Look, Alicia, let's get something straight. There are many things you have a right to do, and that are absolutely no business of mine. But, because of what you've been to me, I can't take an objective, cold-blooded view of them. Sometimes they hurt me, or fill me with rage or jealousy or fear. I warned you in Jazmurian that, like lots of other people, I develop proprietary feelings towards those dear to me." Reith was vexed to find his lip trembling and his eyes watering, but he plunged on:
"If you take some crazy risk that may get you killed, I shouldn't care any more than I would about any other Earth-woman; but I'm terrified for you. If you lie down with some blug like that so-called President, I suppose I ought, like some Terran spouses, to say: 'Have fun, kid!' and dismiss the matter. But I'll never be so liberal-minded as all that; instead-, I want to kill the bastard. If I'm considered a barbarian in Katai-Jhogorai, that's just too bad."
Reith stared at the waves and composed himself. "I try not to show these feelings or interfere in your affairs. If I don't always succeed, the reason is that I'm not quite the 'cold fish' you once called me during a quarrel. Some day I may think of you as only one more Terran; but that day's not here yet. If I believed in some Krishnan god, I'd pray to him to hasten its coming." Reith hastily wiped his eyes with his knuckles.