depopulated, drenched in blood, still burning, in which everything, everything, everything will need to be started over again.
When Rumata kicked open the door of his house and entered the magnificent, dilapidated entrance hall, he was as gloomy as a storm cloud. Muga, the gray-haired, hunched servant of forty yearsâ experience, cowered at the sight of him and only watched, drawing his head further into his shoulders, as his savage young master tore off his hat, coat, and gloves, hurled his swords onto the bench, and climbed to his chambers. Uno waited for him in the living room.
âOrder dinner,â growled Rumata. âTo my study.â
âSomeoneâs waiting for my master in there,â Uno reported gloomily.
âWho?â
âSome common girl. Or maybe a doña. She speaks like a commonerâso gentle, but sheâs dressed like a noblewoman ⦠pretty.â
Kira, thought Rumata with tenderness and relief. Oh, how wonderful! As if she sensed it, my little one. He stood still, his eyes closed, gathering his thoughts.
âShould I turn her out?â the boy asked briskly.
âYou dummy,â said Rumata. âDonât you dare! Where is she?â
âIn masterâs study, of course,â the boy said with an inept smile.
Rumata hurriedly headed there. âOrder dinner for two,â he instructed along the way. âAnd listen: donât let anyone in! Not the king, not the devil, not Don Reba himself.â
She was in his study, sitting with her feet up on a chair, her chin propped up on her fist, absentmindedly flipping through the
Treatise on Rumors.
When Rumata walked in, she started, but he didnât let her get up. He ran up to her, hugged her, and stuck his nose into her thick, fragrant tresses, muttering, âItâs so good to see you, Kira! Itâs so good to see you.â
There was nothing extraordinary about her. She was just a girl, eighteen years of age, snub-nosed, her father an assistant to the court clerk, her brother a sergeant in the storm troopers. And she was late getting married, because she was a redhead, and Arkanar didnât think much of redheads. For that same reason, she was surprisingly quiet and shy, and she had nothing in common with the loudmouthed, voluptuous women who were so appreciated in every class of this society. Nor was she like the languid court beauties, who found out a womanâs lot too early and for life. But she knew how to love the way they now loved on Earthâcalmly and unconditionally.
âWhy were you crying?â Rumata asked.
âWhy are you so angry?â
âNo, tell me why you were crying.â
âIâll tell you later. Your eyes are so very tired. What happened?â
âLater. Who upset you?â
âNo one upset me,â Kira said. âCan you take me away from here?â
âDefinitely.â
âWhen are we leaving?â
âI donât know, little one. But weâre definitely going to leave.â
âFar away?â
âVery far away.â
âTo the metropole?â she asked.
âYes ⦠to the metropole. To my country.â
âIs it nice there?â
âItâs wondrously nice. No one ever cries there.â
âThatâs impossible.â
âOf course,â Rumata admitted. âBut
youâll
never cry there.â
âAnd what are the people there like?â
âLike meâ.
âAll of them?â
âNot all of them. Some are much better.â
âThatâs definitely impossible.â
âThatâs not only possible,â he replied, âitâs true!â
âWhy is it so easy to believe you? My father doesnât believe anyone. My brother says that all people are swine, the only difference is that some are filthy and others are not. But I donât believe them, and you I always believe.â
âI love you.â
âWait ⦠Rumata. Take your
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