And, inevitably, Ol’t’ro thought about countermoves. . . .
22
From high atop a rocky promontory, his clothes and hair fluttering in the stiff sea breeze, Louis watched the rising—roaring—tide. Great North Bay was long and serpentine. Its tall, stony sides funneled the flow higher and higher, until the onrushing waters became more wall than waves. The ground vibrated beneath his boots. Spume crashed from the rocks. Even a hundred meters above the surge, spray occasionally spattered his face.
Three hundred feet, Louis corrected himself. Ancient English units and ancient English speech. English, by way of Spanglish, was the primary source language of Interworld. English all around made Louis feel like an extra in a Shakespeare play, but he understood without too much effort most things he heard. Not these illogical units of measure, though. Getting used to those would take practice.
Sometime soon Nessus would reappear. Louis did not believe in karma, not exactly, but this idyll would end. And if he followed in his father’s footsteps—
Beowulf Shaeffer’s bouts of tourism tended to end in existential crises.
While he could, Louis would enjoy life to the fullest.
A gust of wind. A face full of spray. Louis laughed with delight. This was so not like being aboard Aegis. It had seemed he would never get off that ship. “It’s beautiful up here.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Alice Jordan said.
On Aegis’ arrival on New Terra, Nessus and Ausfaller had (separately? That was not made clear) urgent business to attend to. Ausfaller foisted off Louis on a deputy. And that, once Louis met Alice, was fine with him. He had not seen a woman in a long time.
Once Alice realized Louis was, contrary to appearances, much nearer in age to her 150 or so years than the twenty years he looked, the assignment seemed fine with her, too.