Brothers of Earth

by C. J. Cherryh

  Kurt nodded, but he grew afraid, afraid of the nemet themselves, of finding some dark side to their gentle, cultured nature-or of being despised for a savage. That would be worst of all.

  He followed Kta into the great room which was framed by the branching of the entry hall. It was columned, of polished black marble. Its walls and floors reflected the fire that burned in a bronze tripod bowl at the apex of the triangular hall.

  At the base wall were two wooden chairs, and there sat a woman in the left-hand one, her feet on a white fleece, other fleeces scattered about her feet like clouds. In the right-hand chair sat an elder man, and a girl sat curled up on one of the fleece rugs. Hef stood by the fire, with a young woman at his side.

  Kta knelt on the rug nearest the lady's feet, and from that place spoke earnestly and rapidly, while Kurt stood uncomfortably by and knew that he was the subject. His heart beat faster as the man rose up and cast a forbidding look at him.

  "Kurt-ifhan," said Kta, springing anxiously to his feet, "I bring you before my honored father, Nym t'Elas u Lhai, and my mother the lady Ptas t'Lei e Met sh'Nym."

  Kurt bowed very low indeed, and Kta's parents responded with some softening of their manner toward him. The young woman by Nym's feet also rose up and bowed.

  "My sister Aimu," said Kta. "And you must also meet Hef and his daughter Mim, who honor Elas with their service. Ita, Hef-nechan s'Mim-lechan, imimen. Hau,"

  The two came forward and bowed deeply. Kurt responded, not knowing if he should bow to servants, but he matched his obeisance to theirs.

  "Hef," said Kta, "is the Friend of Elas. His family serves us now three hundred years. Mim-lechan speaks human language. She will help you."

  Mim cast a look up at him. She was small, narrow-waisted, both stiffly proper and distractingly feminine in the close-fitting, many-buttoned bodice. Her eyes were large and dark, before a quick flash downward and the bowing of her head concealed them.

  It was a look of hate, a thing of violence, that she sent him.

  He stared, stricken by it, until he remembered and showed her courtesy by glancing down.

  "I am much honored," said Mim coldly, like a recital, "being help to the guest of my lord Kta. My honored father and I are anxious for your comfort."

  The guest quarters were upstairs, above what Mim explained shortly were Nym's rooms, with the implication that Nym expected silence of him. It was a splendid apartment, in every detail as fine as Kta's own, with a separate, brightly tiled bath, a wood-stove for heating water, bronze vessels for the bath and a tea set. There was a round tub in the bath for bathing, and a great stack of white linens, scented with herbs.

  The bed in the main triangular room was a great feather-stuffed affair spread with fine crisp sheets and the softest furs, beneath a sunny window of cloudy, bubbled glass. Kurt looked on the bed with longing, for his legs shook and his eyes burned with fatigue, and there was not a muscle in his body which did not ache; but Mim busily pattered back and forth with stacks of linens and clothing, and then cruelly insisted on stripping the bed and remaking it, turning and plumping the big down mattress. Then, when he was sure she must have finished, she set about dusting everything.

  Kurt was near to falling asleep in the corner chair when Kta arrived in the midst of the confusion. The nemet surveyed everything that had been done and then said something to Hef, who attended him.

  The old servant looked distressed, then bowed and removed a small bronze lamp from a triangular niche in the west wall, handling it with the greatest care.

  "It is religion," Kta explained, though Kurt had not ventured to ask. "Please don't touch such things, also the phusmeha, the bowl of the fire in the rhmei. Your presence is a disturbance. I ask your respect in this matter."

  "Is it because I'm a stranger," Kurt asked, already nettled by Mim's petty persecutions, "or because I'm human?"

  "You are without beginning on this earth. I asked the phusa taken out not because I don't wish Elas to protect you, but because I don't want you to make trouble by offending against the Ancestors of Elas. I have asked my father in this matter. The eyes of Elas are closed in this one room. I think it is best. Let it not offend."

  Kurt bowed, satisfied by Kta's evident distress.

  "Do you honor your ancestors?" Kta asked.

  "I don't understand," said Kurt, and Kta assumed a distressed look as if his fears had only been confirmed.

  "Nevertheless," said Kta, "I try. Perhaps the Ancestors of Elas will accept prayers in the name of your most distant house. Are your parents still living?"

  "I have no kin at all," said Kurt, and the nemet murmured a word that sounded regretful.

  "Then," said Kta, "I ask please your whole name, the name of your house and of your father and your mother."

  Kurt gave them, to have peace, and the nemet stumbled much over the long alien names, determined to pronounce them accurately. Kta was horrified at first to believe his parents shared a common house name, and Kurt angrily, almost tearfully, explained human customs of marriage, for he was exhausted and this interrogation was prolonging his misery.

  "I shall explain to the Ancestors," said Kta. "Don't be afraid. Elas is a house patient with strangers and strangers' ways."

  Kurt bowed his head, not to have any further argument. He was tolerated for the sake of Kta, a matter of Kta's honor.

  He was cold when Kta and Mim left him alone, and crawled between the cold sheets, unable to stop shivering.

  He was one of a kind, save for Djan, who hated him.

  And among nemet, he was not even hated. He was inconvenient.

  Food arrived late that evening, brought by Hef; Kurt dragged his aching limbs out of bed and fully dressed, which would not have been his inclination, but he was determined to do nothing to lessen his esteem in the eyes of the nemet.

  Then Kta arrived to share dinner with him in his room.

  "It is custom to take dinner in the rhmei, all Elas together," Kta explained, "but I teach you, here. I don't want you to offend against my family. You learn manners first."

  Kurt had borne with much. "I have manners of my own," he cried, "and I'm sorry if I contaminate your house. Send me back to the Afen, to Djan-it's not too late for that." And he turned his back on the food and on Kta, and walked over to stand looking out the dark window. It dawned on him that sending him to Elas had been Djan's subtle cruelty; she expected him back, broken in pride.

  "I meant no insult," Kta protested.

  Kurt looked back at him, met the dark, foreign eyes with more directness than Kta had ever allowed him. The nemet's face was utterly stricken.

  "Kurt-ifhan," said Kta, "I didn't wish to cause you shame. I wish to help you, not putting you on display in the eyes of my father and my mother. It is your dignity I protect."

  Kurt bowed his head and came back, not gladly. Djan was in his mind, that he would not run to her for shelter, giving up what he had abjectly begged of her. And perhaps too she had meant to teach the house of Elas its place, estimating it would beg relief of the burden it had asked. He submitted. There were worse shames than sitting on the floor like a child and letting Kta mold his unskilled fingers around the strange tableware.

  He quickly knew why Kta had not permitted him to go downstairs. He could scarcely feed himself and, starving as he was, he had to resist the impulse to snatch up food in disregard of the unfamiliar utensils. Drink with the left hand only, eat with the right, reach with the left, never the right. The bowl was lifted almost to the lips, but it must never touch. From the almost bowl-less spoon and thin skewer he kept dropping bites. The knife must be used only left-handed.

  Kta was cautiously tactful after his outburst, but grew less so as Kurt recovered his sense of humor. They talked,

  between instructions and accidents, and afterward, over a cup of tea. Sometimes Kta asked him of human customs, but he approached any difference between them with the attitude that while other opinions and manners were possible, they were not so under the roof o
f Elas.

  "If you were among humans," Kurt dared ask him finally, "what would you do?"

  Kta looked as if the idea horrified him, but covered it with a downward glance. "I don't know. I know only Tamurlin."

  "Did not"-he had tried for a long time to work toward this question-"did not Djan-methi come with others?"

  The frightened look persisted. "Yes. Most left. Djan-methi killed the others."

  He quickly changed the subject and looked as if he wished he had not been so free of that answer, though he had given it straightly and with deliberation.

  They talked of lesser things, well into the night, over many cups of tea and sometimes of telise, until from the rest of Elas there was no sound of people stirring and they had to lower their voices. The light was exceedingly dim, the air heavy with the scent of oil from the lamps. The telise made it close and warm. The late hour clothed things in unreality.

  Kurt learned things, almost all simply family gossip, for Djan and Elas were all in Nephane that they both knew, and Kta, momentarily so free with the truth, seemed to have remembered that there was danger in it. They spoke instead of Elas.

  Nym was the authority, the lord of Elas; Kta had almost no authority, although he was over thirty-he hardly looked it-and commanded a warship. Kta would be under Nym's authority as long as Nym lived; the eldest male was lord in the house. If Kta married, he must bring his bride to live under his father's roof. The girl would become part of Elas, obedient to Kta's father and mother as if she were born to the house. So Aimu was soon to depart, betrothed to Kta's lieutenant Bel t'Osanef. They had been friends since childhood, Kta and Bel and Aimu.

  Kta owned nothing. Nym controlled the family wealth and would decide how and whom and when his two children must marry, since marriage determined inheritances. Property passed from father to eldest son undivided, and the eldest then assumed a father's responsibility for all lesser brothers and cousins and unmarried women in the house. A patriarch like Nym always had his rooms to the right of the entry, a custom, Kta explained, derived from more warlike times, when a man slept at the threshold to defend his home from attack. Grown sons occupied the ground floor for the same reason. This room that Kurt now held as a guest had been Kta's when he was a boy.

  And the matriarch, in this case Kta's mother Ptas, although it had been the paternal grandmother until quite recently, had her rooms behind the base wall of the rhmei. > She was the guardian of most religious matters of the house. She tended the holy fire of the phusmeha, supervised the household and was second in authority to the patriarch.

  Of obeisance and respect, Kta explained, there were complex degrees. It was gross disrespect for a grown son to come before his mother without going to his knees, but when he was a boy this deference was not paid. The reverse was true with a son and his father: a boy knelt to his father until his coming of age, then met him with the slight bow of almost-equals if he was eldest, necessary obeisances deepening as one went down the ranks of second son, third son and so on. A daughter, however, was treated as a beloved guest, a visitor the house would one day lose to a husband; she gave her parents only the obeisance of second-son's rank, and showed her brothers the same modest formality she must use with strangers.

  But of Hef and Mim, who served Elas, was required only the obeisance of equals, although it was their habit to show more than that on formal occasions.

  "And what of me?" Kurt asked, dreading to ask. "What must I do?"

  Kta frowned. "You are guest, mine; you must be equal with me. But," he added nervously, "it is proper in a man to show greater respect than necessary sometimes. It does not hurt your dignity; sometimes it makes it greater. Be most polite to all. Don't... make Elas ashamed. People will watch you, thinking they will see a Tamuru in nemet dress. You must prove this is not so."

  "Kta," Kurt asked, "am I a man, to the nemet?"

  Kta pressed his lips together and looked as if he earnestly wished that question had gone unasked.

  "I am not, then," Kurt concluded, and was robbed even of anger by the distress on Kta's face.

  "I have not decided," Kta said. "Some... would say no. It is a religious question. I must think. But I have a liking for you, Kurt, even if you are human."

  "You have been very good to me."

  There was silence between them. In the sleeping house there was no sound at all. Kta looked at him with a directness and a pity which disquieted him.

  "You are afraid of us," Kta observed.

  "Did Djan make you my keeper only because you asked, or because she trusts you in some special way, to watch me?"

  Kta's head lifted slightly. "Elas is loyal to the Methi. But you are guest."

  "Are nemet who speak human language so common? You are very fluent, Kta. Mim is. Your... readiness to accept a human into your house-is that not different from the feelings of other nemet?"

  "I interpreted for the umani when they first came to Nephane. Before that, I learned of Mim, and Mim learned because she was prisoner of the Tamurlin. What evil do you suspect? What is the quarrel between you and Djan-methi?"

  "We are of different nations, an old, old war. Don't get involved, Kta, if you did only get into this for my sake. If I threaten the peace of your house-or your safety-tell me. I'll go back. I mean that."

  "This is impossible," said Kta. "No. Elas has never dismissed a guest."

  "Elas has never entertained a human."

  "No," Kta conceded. "But the Ancestors when they lived were reckless men. This is the character of Elas. The Ancestors guide us to such choice, and Nephane and the Methi cannot be much surprised at us."

  The lives of the nemet were uniformly tranquil. Kurt endured a little more than four days of the silent dim halls, the hushed voices and the endless bowing and refraining from untouchable objects and untouchable persons before he began to feel his sanity slipping.

  On that day he went upstairs and locked the door, despite Kta's pleas to explain his behavior. He shed a few tears, fiercely and in the privacy of his room, and curtained the window so he did not have to look out on the alien world. He sat hi the dark until the night came, then he slipped quietly downstairs and sat in the empty rhmei, trying to make his peace with the house.

  Mim came. She stood and watched him silently, hands twisting nervously before her.

  At last she pattered on soft feet over to the chairs and gathered up one of the fleeces and brought it to the place where he sat on the cold stone. She laid it down beside him, and chanced to meet his eyes as she straightened. Hers questioned, greatly troubled, even frightened.

  He accepted the offered truce between them, edged onto the welcome softness of the fleece.

  She bowed very deeply, then slipped out again, extinguishing the lights one by one as she left, save only the phusmeba, which burned the night long.

  Kta also came out to him, but only looked as if to see that he was well. Then he went away, but left the door of his room open the night long.

  Kurt rose up in the morning and paused in Kta's doorway to give him an apology. The nemet was awake and arose in some concern, but Kurt did not find words adequate to explain his behavior. He only bowed in respect to the nemet, and Kta to him, and he went up to his own room to prepare for the decency of breakfast with the family.

  Gentle Kta. Soft-spoken, seldom angry, he stood above six feet in height and was physically imposing, but it was uncertain whether Kta had ever laid aside his dignity to use force on anyone. It was an increasing source of amazement to Kurt that this intensely proud man had vaulted a ship's rail in view of all Nephane to rescue a drowning human, or sat on the dock and helped him amid his retching illness. Nothing seemed to ruffle Kta for long. He met frustration by retiring to meditate on the problem until he had restored himself to what he called yhia, or balance, a philosophy evidently adequate even in dealing with humans.

  Kta also played the aos, a small harp of metal strings, and sang with a not unpleasant voice, which was the particular pleasure of lady Ptas on th
e quiet evenings. Sometimes he sang light, quick songs that brought laughter to the rhmei, sometimes very long ones that were interrupted with cups of telise to give Kta's voice a rest, songs to which all the house listened in sober silence, plaintive and haunting melodies of anharmonic notes.

  "What do you sing about?" Kurt asked him afterward. They sat in Kta's room, sharing a late cup of tea. It was their habit to sit and talk late into the night. It was almost their last. The two weeks were almost spent. Tonight he wanted very much to know the nemet, not at all sure that he would have a further chance. It had been beautiful in the rhmei, the notes of the aos, the sober dignity of Nym, the rapt face of lady Ptas, Aimu and Mim with their sewing, Hef sitting to one side and listening, his old eyes dreaming.