She did not have to pretend fear. “When Jules talked with the Tehkohn Hao, Diut promised to move the Missionaries to a place of safety if they co-operated. And he promised to have them all killed if they refused.”
Natahk stared at her, unbelieving. “Are you saying that he did nothing more than threaten, and Verrick believed?”
“Yes.”
“Even though Diut was Verrick’s prisoner at the time?”
Alanna manufactured cold anger. “And was he really a prisoner, First Hunter—yours or ours—when you forbade the Missionaries to paint him? When your own people obeyed him? Perhaps you would have believed his threats too if you had ever dared go near enough to him to hear him speak!”
She thought he would hit her. In fact, she expected him to hit her. She feared his strength less than she feared his questions now. But he only stood watching her. “You sided with the blue one, counseled your father to accept his word.”
Again, she did not feel that an answer was necessary.
“Even so, that should not have been enough. There is something missing. Something to do with your husband perhaps?”
“You know Jules doesn’t know about him.” She forced a note of bitterness into her voice. “And he’s out of favor with Diut—because of me. I only wish he did have enough influence to help.”
Natahk made a sound of disgust. “Somehow, you are lying. You are worthless. Gehl was right. She said it would be better to kill you.”
Had she? Then somehow Gehl too had noticed what Alanna could not help noticing. Natahk had b2en careless. But at least now, Alanna knew how to stop his questions. She looked at him calmly. “You are not going to kill me.”
He stared back at her for a moment without speaking. “So you realize that.” He whitened slightly. ”We will speak of it then, in a moment. Were the Missionaries to be taken to the mountain dwelling?”
The question did not take her by surprise, but she chose to pretend that it had. She hesitated as though nervous, then answered, “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?” His voice was comfortingly filled with suspicion. “And what use could the Tehkohn have for a tribe of your kind?”
She feigned annoyance. “Why bother to ask me questions if you’re not going to believe my answers?”
His coloring became iridescent, flecks of yellow glinting within the green. Doubt. “You are a worthy enemy, Alanna, with your half truths and your lies. It will be interesting to reshape you and make you less of an enemy.”
“That, you will never do.” Deliberate challenge. But now was the time for it.
His iridescence faded to white. “Did I not say that all in this valley submitted to me? You will see. What was the name of your husband?”
“Natahk…” She shook her head. “Would you have me invent a name and give it to you?”
“I would have you obey me and answer my questions!”
“Yahnoh is my husband.”
Natahk lifted his head slightly. “I know of a Tehkohn judge called Yahnoh.”
“Of course. My husband.”
“‘Of course,’” he mimicked. “I think I will give you a meklah fruit to swallow back your next lie with.”
Frightened, Alanna said nothing. The risk had always been there. She might have to undergo a third withdrawal. But she was not weak or sick now. She would not sell either group of her people to avoid readdiction—any more than Jules had.
But Natahk’s mood seemed to change. His anger faded and he moved closer to her. As he spoke he touched her throat lightly. “And even with that threat, I will not stop you from lying or counseling your Missionaries to side with the Tehkohn. But soon I will stop them from listening to you. I wonder if the Tehkohn have really found some use for them. Or if they only planned to kill them.”
Alanna pulled away from the caressing fingers in disgust and stood up. At least he was diverted from his questioning.
“Be still,” he said quietly. He touched her again. “Am I so different from your husband? After all, judge that he is, even he is not the leader of his people.”
“He’s my husband. What more does he have to be than that to bar your way?”
“A Tehkohn marriage means nothing to us.”
She frowned at him. He was more right than he knew about one thing. He sounded far too much like Diut—like the Diut who had demanded a liaison with her such a short time ago. But Diut had changed, had allowed her to mold him as he molded her. And Diut was trying to help the Missionaries while Natahk was endangering them.
“Why should you want me?” she asked him. “You have Gehl now. You could have any other without trouble.”
“You must become part of the tie,” he said. “That will turn your people away from you so that you can no longer counsel them against me—also, it will protect you from their foolish customs. My only other choice would be to kill you and I don’t want to do that. We’re much alike, Alanna, you and I. I risk the anger of my hunters by saving and tying in with the Missionaries because I can see that in spite of the Missionaries’ weakness, their knowledge will strengthen us. And you risk the anger, the savagery, of your people as you try to save them from me.”
Another parallel. He was right, of course. However much she hated him, she and Natahk had similar goals—they worked for the good of their respective peoples. But they were not as alike as he wished. “I will not accept a liaison with you,” she said.
“So? Shall I give you to another hunter? Or perhaps several other hunters until one of them becomes your husband.”
“Why should you choose my mate? That is not the custom.”
“But you have no blue.” He smiled. “The power of the blue is a lie. My people believe it. I only use it. I killed a hunter and huntress bluer than myself to become First Hunter.” He clasped her throat between thumb and fingers, deliberately intimate. “And now, I will have the wife of a man blue enough to be called a judge—but not blue enough to stop me!”
Gehl opened the front door and came in.
Quickly, but seemingly casually, Natahk dropped his hand to his side. Knocking was not a Garkohn custom and Jules and Neila usually kept their door latched to avoid the most obvious intruders. But with all the recent coming and going, the latch had been left off. The Garkohn woman stood staring at Natahk and Alanna, noting, Alanna was certain, how close Natahk stood, and how Alanna had not moved away. Natahk had been bragging about his rank. Now Alanna remembered Gehl’s. She too had fought her way up, killing those who opposed her. Natahk himself held the only authority she accepted.
Eyes downcast, Alanna stepped away from Natahk. She could not yellow as another Kohn would have, but she hoped Gehl would understand. Alanna felt no shame at giving way. With her incomplete training, she was not ready to face such an opponent even if she had considered Natahk a prize worth righting for—which she did not.
Gehl could have him. In fact, as insurance against a possible future, Alanna hoped the huntress became pregnant.
Gehl spoke to Natahk. “There is trouble outside. Come out.”
“Trouble with the Missionaries? I told you…”
“Not with them. Come out.”
Natahk went to the door, then stopped as he noticed that Gehl remained behind. She was looking at Alanna. Natahk called her name once, sharply, then waited while she went out before him. When only Alanna could see him, he whitened considerably with amusement. He glanced at Alanna, then followed Gehl out the door, his coloring settling to normal.
After a moment, Alanna went to the door and looked out. There were a few Missionaries gathered on the common with bundles tied in blankets and handcarts haphazardly loaded. And a few Garkohn stood with them guarding them. But everyone’s attention was on the scene at the gate where several more Garkohn were gathered. Alanna could see that three of these were spattered with red paint, or with blood. And one of them sat on the ground, half propped up against the wall. This one seemed to be unconscious. And it was this one that Alanna recognized. He was on
e of those who had left with the load of Missionary weapons. The others were also from the weapons party. What was left of the weapons party.
Alanna withdrew back into the house, smiling grimly. Jules and Neila came in and she startled them by hugging them in sudden exuberant relief. Diut had not done the expected thing—had not taken his raiders and ex-prisoners and gone home to celebrate his successful raid. Perhaps it was nothing more than Alanna’s stubbornness and his concern for her that had kept him in the valley, but Alanna thought otherwise. He had his people back now, and the Garkohn could not threaten him. He was ready to move.
CHAPTER NINE
Diut
I had decided to make Alanna a judge. She had just the right combination of speed and strength to hold her own among my judges and she was learning quickly. I trained her intensively because the time was near when I would break with her. I had first thought to keep her for only a season and thus make her acceptable to any others she might choose to mate with. Before I had her, I thought a season would be enough. Especially since she fought against coming to me at all.
But she and I found far more pleasure in each other than I had expected. We came to know each other first by touch, as blind people finding beauty with our hands that we could not see with our eyes. Her skin was smooth and firm, and yet soft. Very good to touch. And her hands seemed to wander by themselves through my fur. But there were times when I looked at her starkly naked ill-colored body and wondered how I could want to touch it. And her eyes were wrong-poorly protected and too round. She said they were more narrow than any of the Missionaries she had left in the Garkohn valley, but still they were too round to be pleasing. Her nose was too large. I asked her once whether it would be considered large among her people and she was offended. “It is very ordinary,” she said. And then added, “Some Missionaries think the Kohn have no noses.”
I let white into my coloring and seized her by her huge nose until she threatened to pull out a handful of my fur.
She taught me the caress called a “kiss” among her people, and then complained that I had no “lips” to kiss. It was not a caress any Kohn people would enjoy anyway. There was not enough to it. A joining of mouths, a thrust of tongues. That was all. It could not be felt as biting could. She learned to caress me as I preferred and I was pleased. I sought to please her.
The season went by. The second planting was harvested and stored. My hunters went out to get as much meat as they could now—an excess to dry and store while the game was fat and plentiful. We raided all the small high valleys that could be closed to become our game traps. The record of Alanna’s kills with her bow and her arrows was impressive. Several of my judges decided to try the new weapons, though my hunters still scorned any weapon but their bodies against most animals. I was pleased with my judges’ flexibility.
My healers gathered a harvest of wild herbs to ease ailments of cold and old age that grew worse when the snows fell.
And I held on to Alanna. There was still much for me to teach her, and she was teaching me the language of her people. I knew I would have to deal with them someday. She was learning not only to fight, but to read the light speech that we used to signal each other through the mountains. We signaled warnings of raiders, of dangerous animals or good hunting, of places along the slopes that were not safe, and of other things. Light speech was difficult for Alanna to learn, especially at first, but her life would be safer when she understood it. As the snows came, and we were inside more, I spent much time teaching her. It was a pleasurable thing to do. Too much that had to do with her had become pleasurable. I realized that I was becoming too attached to her, and she to me. I promised myself I would let her go soon.
When she began to change, I thought it was because she sensed the nearness of our separation. I gave her no comfort because it was important to me to see how she handled her feelings alone. Her actions now would tell me whether or not I would ask her to come to me again after a few seasons. My cousin Kehyo had taught me that I should not ask a woman to come to me more than once if she could not control her feelings.
Alanna grew nervous. She watched me closely when she thought I did not see. She seemed to withdraw into herself and I could sense fear in her. Fear of parting?
I had already decided which apartment in the fighter section that I would give her, when she finally opened to me—told me what any other would have told me long before. And even on the night she told me, she was hesitant and evasive.
“Am I still ugly to you?” she asked. “Do you still see me as you did when we first came together?” It had been a long time since either of us mentioned such nonsense—back when she complained in jest that I had no lips. But she was serious now. Far more serious than she should have been over such a question. I refused to match her mood.
“How do you see me?” I asked, pulling her closer.
She lay silent by my side.
“Why are you afraid?” I asked.
“Because I think I’ve come to accept you more than you have me.”
“We have only a liaison, Alanna.”
“No.”
“No?” I turned my head slightly to look at her. “What more can there be for us?”
“A marriage… if you can accept a marriage with me.”
I sat up, controlling my annoyance. “Alanna, I have lost count of the number of my liaisons. Do you think I am without a wife, without children by choice?”
She said nothing, only watched me.
“How can I have a child with you when I have failed with so many Tehkohn women?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Our two peoples must not be as different as I thought.”
I looked down at her, suddenly confused. I could feel my body go iridescent. “What are you saying?”
“That I’m going to have a child, Diut. And it cannot be any harder for you to believe than it was for me.”
For a moment, I could not speak. When the words did come, my own voice sounded strange to me. “A child? Alanna, are you… can you be certain?”
“Oh yes.” She spoke with unmistakable bitterness.
“But… you are a young woman. It may be that you have made a mistake.”
“Do you want it to be a mistake?”
“I mean only that you… Others of my mates have thought themselves pregnant with my child. They wanted it so badly that they…”
“That they imagined their wish had been granted, yes. There have been such women among the Missionaries too. But never once did I even imagine that it was possible for you and me to produce a child. I did not long for it because it seemed completely impossible. I only hoped that our time together could be long, and that we could come together again someday.”
“I… had planned that we should, but…”
She sat up and faced me, the fear and uncertainty gone from her face. She appeared resigned. “You planned to give me an apartment of my own when I left you, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, surprised.
“I’ll go there then. I know our time together would have ended soon anyway. I’ll stay there alone until our child is born. Then I’ll come back to you if you want me, or I’ll stay there if you don’t.”
I could see both her certainty and her sadness, and almost against my will, I began to doubt. I knew I was hurting her. She was not the first woman I had hurt this way, but it was necessary. All my other mates had been wrong. I was afraid to believe her. Yet she was not the kind of woman who made stories within her mind and then acted as though the stories were true. Different as she was, she had shown herself to be worthy of my trust. Now, suddenly, I found myself striving to trust her. How many years had I thought myself to be flawed in the Hao way, unable to do what my yellowest artisan could do-unable to father a child.
“When did you first know of the child?” I asked quietly.
“Supposed child,” she said bitterly. “Imaginary child.”
“Alanna!”
She sighed. “Since shortl
y after the gathering at Kehyo’s apartment. I waited to tell you because at first I didn’t believe it myself. I waited to be sure.”
At once my suspicions increased. Kehyo had insulted Alanna that night. Might Alanna not now be trying to best Kehyo by doing what Kehyo could not—having my child? I knew that Tahneh had told Alanna about Kehyo. I spoke my thought as gently as I could. When I had finished, even someone who had never known a member of Alanna’s race could have read her anger.
“Show me where the new apartment is,” she said. “I’ll go there now. I can’t listen to any more of this.” She started to rise to her feet. I pulled her down again.
“You will listen. There is a decision for you to make. I will be guided by you.”
Some of her anger gave way to curiosity. “What decision?”
“Whether we will have a gathering of our own. Whether we will announce to our friends—who will surely tell everyone—that you are going to have a child.”
Her too-round eyes grew rounder. “So? You believe me?”
“I believe that you believe. And in the time we have been together, I have seen little foolishness in you.”
She stared down at her own brown leg. “I thought I was prepared for anything you might say. ‘Yes, I believe.’ ‘No, I don’t believe.’ ‘Yes, I want the child.’ ‘No, such a mixed child would be a monster.
“Choose, Alanna.”
“I want the gathering! Of course I want it. It’s my right. And I want more. Need more.” She looked into my face. “I would rather have you send me away than give me only your grudging acceptance. ‘Oh, well, she’s not entirely stupid. Maybe there’s a chance that she’s right.’ Diut, let me be alone until you can be sure.”
I lay on my back and looked up at her. There was a strange beauty to her when one did not try to fit her into the Kohn image—when one did not see her as a twisted Kohn. The day I realized that I was finding beauty in her was the day I knew it was time to be rid of her. People unable to produce children quickly learn the danger of becoming too attached to any mate.
“I have had other mates who thought they carried my child, Alanna.”
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