He thought about her all day. And, when he returned to the hotel at nightfall, after his day at the jewel exchange, he was pleasantly surprised to find her standing at the desk in the hotel lobby, tearing open an envelope she had just picked up at the mail rack.
He walked to the mail rack and made a conspicuous thing out of searching his own box for a letter. Inwardly he told himself not to be a damned fool; he had nothing to gain by this escapade but trouble. Still, he rummaged in the box, and shrugged his shoulders when he found the expected emptiness.
“Nothing for me, I guess,” he said sofdy, and’turned as though to leave. But the girl had noticed him, and she looked up, smiling.
“Hello, Earthman,” she said lightly. “Do you live here? Oh, of course, you must, if you’re looking for your mail!”
“I live here,” Gardner said.
He studied her with care. She was tall, five-seven at least, with hair dyed green and an open, wide-eyed face with cheekbones just a shade too broad. She looked very attractive. She was well dressed, in an informal way, and a notebook was slung in a litde harness over her left shoulder. Gardner guessed that she was in her middle, or perhaps late twenties. There were no rings on her slim, tapering fingers.
He realized the dangers inherent in any such encounter as this, and tried to wrench himself free. But his eyes had met hers, and he stood where he was, unable to move away from her.
“I live here too,” she said, laughing prettily. “A few days ago they told me at the desk that another Terran had moved in, but I didn’t know if you were the one.”
“I’ve been here four days.”
“Then you’re the one they told me about. It’s good to see a friendly face again.”
“Yes,” Gardner said vaguely. He knew that this was a crisis point. He had to succeed in breaking this relationship before it began, or all might be jeopardized foolishly. He said, “It was good to meet you, but I really ought to run along now. I—”
She was pouting. “You don’t have to run away from me so fast, you know. I’m not going to bite you. Honest, that’s a promise.”
Gardner forced a good imitation of a chuckle. He told himself that he was getting into trouble, very serious trouble. But perhaps” he might still work his way out of it without having to seem impolite.
“Okay, then. I appreciate your subtlety. Would you care to be bought a drink?”
“I would indeed. You’re most kind to make the offer,” she said impishly.
“There’s a little cafe across the street.”
She wrinkled her nose. She was lightly sprinkled with freckles, Gardner noticed. “That place is so terribly vulgar,” she said. “Why don’t we just go into the hotel casino?”
Gardner shrugged. Drinks in the casino were twice as expensive as across the street, for one thing. But he was bound by the rules of chivalry, now. “The casino it is, then.”
They went to the rear of the lobby and through the automatically-operated doors into the dimly-lit room. A Lurioni clad in the local equivalent of a tuxedo-andrtails came gliding unctuously up to them to ask if they were interested in gambling.
“Not at the moment,” Gardner said. “We’d just like a table in the back, and something to drink.”
“Of course, ser Earthman. Come with me.”
They were led to a nook at the rear, behind the gaming tables. It might have been romantic, secluded as it was, but the lighting in the ceiling was defective, and buzzed annoying-ly; besides, the place had the sour reek of the foul Lurioni beer. They settled into the alcove facing each other. “Do you drink khallT he asked.
She nodded. “I’ve sampled a little. But you have to understand that I haven’t had the opportunity to do much social drinking on Lurion. That’s why I practically shanghaied you just now.”
Gardner grinned and ordered two khalls. While they waited for the liquor to arrive, he said, “Now tell me what such a handsome piece of womanflesh is doing all by herself on a nasty world like this.”
“I’m a graduate anthropology student, working on my doctoral thesis,” she said.
“I never would have guessed it! What’s your field of special interest?”
She said, as the waiter deposited the drinks on the table, “My thesis is called Abnormal Cruelty on Civilized Worlds.”
“You’ve certainly come to the right place for that. How long have you been here?”
“Four months.” She chuckled. “Here we are getting into a complicated discussion, and we don’t even know each other’s names. I’m Lori Marks.”
“Roy Gardner.”
“North American?”
“Yes. So are you.”
“Very north,” she said. “I’m Canadian. Bom in Ottawa. And you’re from the northeastern part of the United States, or else you’re trying to fool me with a phony accent.”
“I’m not. I’m a Massachusetts boy.”
She giggled. “Massachusetts seems so insignificant when you’re umpteen light-years away. So does Ottawa, fpr that matter. Or the whole hemisphere. They all seem to blur into one.” Sipping her drink, she said, “And what do you do, Roy? Don’t tell me you’re an anthropologist working on the same thing I am, or I’ll absolutely have a fit.”
Gardner smiled genüy. “No chance. I’m a dealer in precious gems.”
“Really!” Her eyes went wide with disbelief. “Really,” he said. “Is it so improbable?”
“It’s just… well, funny, that’s all.”
“How so, funny?”
“Funny because I always pictured a jewel merchant as a little shrunken sort of man with a squint in his eyes from peering through his loupe. You just don’t look the part, dammit! You look more like… well, an adventurer, or a spy, or something romantic. Anything but a trader in precious gems.”
Gardner tried to keep from wincing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Remind me to shrink next time I see you. And some day remind me to tell you what I think anthropologists ought to look like.”
She giggled delightedly. “Touché.”
The conversation, which had become almost giddy, slackened for a moment. Gardner looked at the girl thoughtfully. She was young, pretty, intelligent, lively, unmarried.
And she was condemned to death.
Gardner felt his throat grow dry. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a long, deep pull of the fiery khall. He looked away, suddenly, so she would not see the pain on his face.
Chapter VII
An hour later, and two additional rounds of khall, and Gardner had his hand across the table, holding hers. He was forcing himself to take the khall one sip at a time, letting his body metabolize it before he allowed any more into his system. Otherwise he ran the risk of becoming maudlin, sentimental, and, perhaps, overly talkative. The combination might be fatal.
He eyed the girl closely, thinking of her and her thesis. It was a promising enough topic for research, and there was no doubt that she had come to the perfect world for studying cruelty. And then the thought returned that in three weeks—no, now only two weeks and a couple of days, now—he was going to kill this girl and the three billion Lurioni she was so assiduously studying.
“How long are you planning to stay on Lurion?” he asked, trying to sound merely formally curious, with ho deeper motive.
“Oh, another month or so, I guess.” Gardner winced. A whole month!
She went on, “My visa’s up in two months, you see, but I’ve observed about all the cruelty I want to observe on any one planet. These people have perfected it astonishingly well. You’d be surprised how many happy marriages there are on Lurion with one partner a sadist and the other a masochist.”