Free Venus of Shadows by Pamela Sargent Page B

you wanted —"
    "No, Katya." He reached for her hand almost automatically. "You aren't wrong about that." I'll only hurt her if I turn away now, he told himself; it was easier to give in. Anticipation of a new love was already arousing him, as it always did.
    His lips brushed against hers lightly; her fair hair smelled of soap. He stood up, helped her to her feet, and led her inside his tent.
    *  *  *
    Malik's first day in Nikolai's yurt was much like the days that followed. He had been given a space by the wall near the door; one of the men helped him hang a shabby blanket between two poles to mark off the space. His sleep the night before had been disturbed by the sounds of men leaving the yurt. The Guardians had forbidden them to relieve themselves anywhere except in the camp's toilets, and their own fears of spreading illness made them content to obey that order.
    His day began with his morning prayer, said outside the yurt, after which he lined up with the others to wait in a line for their morning meal. This time they ate at one of the long tables instead of taking the food back to the yurt. Breakfast, as always, was a bowl of lumpy cereal served with a slice of melon and milk-laced tea, while their evening meal was usually fish with wilted vegetables or a piece of textured soy protein with a potato. Malik had learned not to ask too many questions about the food, which was often so tasteless that it was impossible to tell what it was.
    The men lingered over their meal as long as possible before going to the lavatories; a few took showers while the others groomed themselves by the sinks. By then, a line had already formed by the camp's laundries, where people could clean and mend their clothes. Malik had brought only three changes of clothing with him; the Guardians would issue new clothing on request, but only if one's old garments were practically in rags.
    After noonday prayers, Malik returned to the yurt to find that the others were planning to exercise outside. He retreated to his space, pulled his blanket shut, and took out his pocket reading screen.
    The blanket was abruptly pulled open; Nikolai and a Chinese man named Howin peered inside. "What do you have there?" the Russian asked.
    Malik tensed a little. Only Yekaterina knew about his screen, but he could hardly keep it a secret now. "It's just a reading screen," he replied. "I brought a small library on microdot. I enjoy reading in the afternoon." He gazed at the two apprehensively; they would probably spread the news about his screen. He tried to reassure himself; his possessions would be safer in this yurt than in his tent. Few in the camp would risk angering Nikolai and his friends, who had no compunctions about confronting any suspected thieves when the Guardians weren't around.
    But Nikolai and Howin seemed amused and indifferent. "Reading," Howin muttered under his breath before letting the blanket fall. "Be better for him to strengthen himself instead of ruining his eyes."
    "You're forgetting," Nikolai answered. "Malik's a scholar. They must get used to reading, or they couldn't keep doing it."
    "I don't know why they bother," another man said in the distance. "Screens and mind-tours can tell you all anybody needs to know."
    Malik read for most of the afternoon, having no desire to join the others in their athletic pursuits and strolls around the camp. In the evening, he went with them to the dining hall; they collected their food and carried it back to the yurt. After eating, they threw dice to determine who would carry the trays and bowls back to the hall; Malik lost.
    Yekaterina approached him as he left the hall. A few Guardians passed, beginning their nightly patrol; they would wander the paths for a bit and then retreat beyond the posts. He took Yekaterina's arm. "I moved in with those women I told you about," she said. "It's crowded, but I'll get along."
    He was disappointed; he had been expecting to join her in her tent for part of the night.