The Apex Book of World SF 2 by Lavie Tidhar Page B

been more than twenty, with jet-black hair. He tried
to keep his eyes away from the exposed anatomy of the locals, but the circular
seating arrangement made that difficult. Carrizo stared openly, but none of the
women seemed to mind.
    Herrero was already
making progress with the language. Interspersed with the gesturing, there was
now a word here, another word there, which seemed to please their hosts, who
tried to correct his pronunciation and laughed at his efforts.
    One woman, however,
was paying no attention to Herrero. The girl De Menes had sat beside seemed to
have eyes only for him and stared the entire time. At first, he thought it must
simply have been the close-up view of his light skin and strange clothes, but
he soon realised that the girl had not even glanced at the equally exotic
figures of Carrizo and Herrero.
    He smiled at her and
placed one hand on his chest. "Joao," he whispered. Her dark eyes invited him
to speculate about the rest of her, and he tried desperately to keep his own
gaze locked on them while she spoke.
    "Teuhuech," she
replied, placing his hand on her own chest. He pulled it back quickly as she
said something else, a rapid-fire string of words in her own language,
delivered in a husky monotone. The man on De Menes' opposite side chuckled.
    At that moment, a
couple of men from the Trinidad arrived, carrying sacks of provisions. "Your
tent is down in the boat. If you want to sleep under cover, I'd suggest you get
it. We aren't coming back up here."
    Grumbling, but
relieved to be able to escape from the strange natives for a few moments,
Carrizo and De Menes walked down the hill. Herrero, of course, was much too
important to be bothered with menial tasks. They joked with the oarsmen as they
pulled the poles from the boat. "Magalhaes says we'll be back tomorrow or the
next day. He wants to sail beyond that outcropping—" the man pointed to a
peninsula some leagues away "—to see whether we can replenish our water."
    De Menes' heart
sank. They would be alone, without even the comforting sight of the flotilla to
keep him sane, on a small spit of land at the edge of the world. But he would
not give the tyrant the satisfaction of begging to be allowed back on board. He
gestured Carrizo to pick up his half of the burden and set off towards the
campsite.
    The wind, already a
desolate howl, had picked up even more as they began to pitch the tent. By De
Menes' reckoning, it was about three in the afternoon, and there were still
hours and hours of late spring sunlight remaining. And yet the sunlight seemed
weak, thin, as if its force was being drained by invisible fog. De Menes
shivered.
    The girl, Teuhuech,
realised he was back almost immediately, and joined them just as Joao attempted
to position the final tent pole. He watched her walk in their direction, unable
to ignore the fact that there was a young and supple body beneath the red
paint.
    She playfully took
hold of the tent pole, her surprisingly strong grip resisting his efforts to
tear it from her grasp, and his attempts to twist the pole without making
contact with her skin only made the native girl laugh.
    Finally, she
relented, allowing De Menes and Carrizo to finish erecting their tent, a
medium-sized piece of canvas suitable for three men. When it was done, she
smiled and crawled inside. De Menes tried to look away, but Carrizo had no such
qualms. He stared at the indecently exposed flesh and then turned to his
companion and winked lewdly. "I would go in after her, my friend, but I don't
think that would make her happy. You, on the other hand, should hurry before
she changes her mind."
    De Menes gave him a
dark look. While he wasn't a saint, by any means, and certainly wasn't averse
to the occasional dalliance with a native girl, this one's single-minded
determination made him nervous. It was impossible to shake the feeling that
there was something deep and disturbing lurking just behind those smiles. Maybe
it was just his dread at having