Read Out of Phaze for Free Online Page B

state!
    He returned inside the crater. He would just have to sleep until morning, and then see what offered. Perhaps the human female would know where there was water. And food—he would be hungry soon.
    But as he came to the brush pile, he realized that the female was awake. Indeed, she was sitting up, peering at him.
    “I—I was uncomfortable,” he said awkwardly. Natural functions were normally not discussed between the sexes in Proton, and he assumed it was the same here.
    “Bane,” she said. Her voice was pleasant, having an almost flutelike quality.
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Bane—is thy game over?” she asked.
    “Game?”
    She sighed. “Not over. Then I will play it on with thee. Do thou kiss me, and we shall sleep.”
    “Kiss?” he asked, perplexed.
    She stood, rising lithely to her feet. She approached him, reached up, took hold of his head with both her hands, and brought her face to his. She kissed him on the mouth. “Long has it been since we played thus,” she said. “Come, now; sleep.” She tugged him toward the nest.
    Mach followed, bemused. This girl seemed to know him, and she wanted to sleep. There were several meanings for that word, and he was not sure which one applied, so he simply lay down in the fragrant brush beside her, as she seemed to want. If she intended sexual expression, he could do that; as a robot he had the hardware, and was programmed to—but no, he wasn’t a robot anymore! Still, as a living man he had similar capacities, and she seemed to be an attractive girl; he could do whatever seemed to be called for.
    She squeezed his hand, turned her head to the side, and slept. In a moment her gentle breathing signaled her condition.
    Relieved, Mach did the same. He wondered whether she would still be there when morning came.
    As it happened, she was. He woke to the pressure of her little hand, tousling his hair. “Wake, Bane!” she exclaimed. “What is the game today? Naked through the swamp again?”
    That made him realize that though he was properly naked, she was not. She wore a black cloak that covered her body from neck to ankle. He remembered, now, that he had felt cloth about her body in the night; he had assumed it was a cover, not clothing.
    Now he had to ascertain the situation. He had three alternatives. First, she might be in costume, considering this to be a play; indeed she had mentioned a game. Second, she might be a serf masquerading as a Citizen. That was of course dangerous. Third, she might actually be a Citizen.
    He had to know. A Citizen always had to be addressed with the proper forms of respect. But a serf in Citizen garb had to be set straight immediately, before real trouble came of it.
    “Sir, I must know,” he said, erring on the safe side. “What is your status?”
    She looked at him, her green eyes seeming to twinkle. “ ‘Sir’? What speech be this, Bane?”
    So she was not a Citizen. Just as well! ‘Then you are a serf?”
    “Serf? Bane, if thou willst but tell me thy game, I will play it with thee. But I know not the rules of it.”
    “What is this ‘thee’ business?” he asked.
    She smiled. Her black hair framed her face, and she wore a pearl at her forehead; she was lovely in her joy. “A game of language!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.
    “No game. I just don’t understand. Who are you? Where did you come from? Why do you use the archaic forms? Why are you garbed?”
    She cocked her head at him cannily. “So we call it not a game. That can I do. As for who I be, as if thou dost not know: I am Fleta, thy companion of yore. I speak as thy kind does; wouldst rather have me neigh? As for my garb—why there be no need for it, if this be the game!” And she reached down, caught hold of the hem of her cloak, and drew it up over her head. In a moment she stood before him naked, for she wore no underclothing. “Be that better, Bane?”
    “Yes,” he agreed. She was a most comely figure of a young woman, perfectly