“Oh.” He laughed. “You don’t trust me to talk later?”
“You’re a man,” she said dispassionately. “Even the best of you can be ruled by what’s between your legs.”
He held up both hands in surrender. “So, we’ll talk. I assume the topic is what might develop between us?”
“I’ve lain with you, and I might again, but if I’m to believe there may be more between us, we need to be clear about what we want in our future lives.”
She sat in a wooden chair covered by a thick fabric and motioned to a second chair for him. She crossed her arms and sat upright, as if steeling herself for a dreaded task or, as it occurred to him, to prepare herself for unpleasant news.
“I want a husband I can count on. I’m not a helpless female, but life is hard enough without being burdened by a man who needs attention like a child and who is weak. God granting, there will be children. As the mother, it can’t be necessary for me to earn most of the family’s coin, so I have to know the husband is hardworking and aware of his responsibilities. That doesn’t mean I expect a wealthy life, only that we can have the essentials of home and food.
“Many women don’t think about getting a husband who truly respects them. That’s not for me. I want a marriage more like I’ve seen with my parents and with the Toodmans. I think that can happen with you.
“With more women than men, too many of us settle for lives that, to me, are worse than no husband or children. I expect to be a good wife, taking care of our home, our children, and my husband’s needs in the bed. In return, I expect to be treated with respect.”
She stopped speaking and stared at Mark. It was a blunt statement of basic expectations, as if the opening of a contract discussion. Seconds passed. Maghen gripped her opposite upper arms tighter.
It took a few more seconds before Mark stirred himself. Whoops. I think it’s my turn.
Two separate clusters of thoughts swirled in Mark’s mind, sometimes separate from each other, other times intermingling. One cluster summed up Mark’s life on Earth. The other cluster drew from his time since coming to Anyar. In addition, he felt the urge to be honest with Maghen, though not too honest. He settled for telling her what he could.
“I grew up on a ranch owned by my family. I loved all of them, though I confess I didn’t realize how much until I came to believe I’d never see them again. Everyone in the family worked hard, but I was young and didn’t like the responsibilities expected of me to help run the ranch. I knew most of my friends didn’t have the same chores, and my attitude changed into resentment. I became eager to leave the ranch and my family to look for a life that had what I saw as more freedom and excitement.
“I told you what happened in northern Frangel. I had fantasies of introducing things known to my people but not yours. I would become wealthy and influential. In my illusions, I ignored warnings from other people, and two friends ended up dead because of my self-absorption. Others I liked or had some responsibility for were terribly hurt, both physically and emotionally, by losing loved ones.
“You don’t have guilds here near Nurburt. They are organized groups that control specific trades like blacksmithing and weaving. I made enemies in the Brawsea guilds, and it’s one reason I left the capital.
“I’m afraid I focused so much on adjusting to being a castaway in Frangel that I thought only of myself. I didn’t fully appreciate that being in a foreign society meant I needed to understand it better and accept the differences from my home. There’s a saying among my people that sometimes a stubborn animal needs to be hit over the head with a board to make it see straight. I don’t know if what I’m thinking now is straight, but I know part of me wishes to be back among my family and working on the ranch on tasks that seemed boring at the time, but that now are almost soothing. I don’t know if this makes any sense to you, Maghen, but I believe you want me to be honest.”
“I do,” she said. “Someday you can tell me more about these things you wanted to introduce and about what happened with these ‘guilds,’ but while I don’t know what your former life was like, I believe you’re honest in telling me this. So, this is of your past, and we’re here in the present. What about the future?”
“In a way, it’s strange for me. I was so eager to leave my family and ranch life, and now I believe I’ve come to want my own land and family. I might have found a good life in northern Frangel, but here it would be a ranch, something that I believe I have the experience to make successful. How to get the ranch is a problem I don’t know the answer to right now. That’s something I must figure out if there’s also to be a family.”
Maghen started to speak. Mark held up a hand to stop her. The days since Maghen rode to where he was working had provided him with many hours to think. His one clear urge was to feel he had a place.
“Before you say anything, in whatever comes true, I would want you to be the wife in that future.”
Light was dim from the single whale-oil lantern set low, but he thought her eyes turned moist. She clasped her crossed arms tighter as if suppressing her emotions.
“I think we could get that ranch, Mark. It may not be as hard as you imagine, although it might take some years and saving as much coin as we could. Once we bought the piece of land, my family would help with animals to begin with and would willingly help build the first house, barn, and fencing. I also think the Toodmans might help. Ser Toodman thinks highly of you, and Leesta is a friend.”
“How much coin would it take?” Mark asked. “I don’t know what good land costs here.”
“I’m not sure either. Ser Toodman would know. I’ve saved almost a large gold—a tiny amount of what it would take, but it’s something.”
“I have almost four large golds,” said Mark. “Most of it is left from what I came south with and what I’ve earned here at the ranch. The rest is from my one attempt at destrex hunting.”
“Destrex! You didn’t tell me about that! What in Hades were you doing hunting those creatures?”
Mark summarized his ill-conceived hunt, skipping over most details, except for the single hide he and Rocky sold in Nurburt.
“I wouldn’t want you to ever do that again. At least, you were with that other man. Only complete idiots would hunt destrex by themselves. Coin isn’t worth your death.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t go hunting like we did this last time.”
Now I know I’m never going to give you the details, thought Mark.
Maghen unclenched her hands from her arms, giving a little bounce in her chair. Her voice took on a more exuberant tone than her previous businesslike statements.
“Let’s get back to talking about if we were to marry. Where would we live? I’d love it to be near my family, but there’s less unsettled land there, and whatever there is probably would take more coin than here. We know people here. While they’re not family, they are friends. I’m sure the Toodmans would let us live in one of the cottages, or we could build a new one. My brothers would help with the building.
“The other advantage of here is that you can be looking for available land for our eventual home. I know it will be hard to predict, but I hope we would have our own place before we have too many children.”
Mark had the distinct feeling he was falling farther behind in the discussion, if that was what they were having. Now he felt as if he was listening to a monologue detailing the way things would be. He suddenly had images of a cottage like the one they were in, except with half a dozen children, including one or more squalling babies. Panic threatened.
“Let’s not look too far ahead,” he said. “We haven’t settled that we’re getting married.”
“I thought that’s what we were doing,” said Maghen, her tone returning to contract negotiations. “It’s important to understand our plans before we proceed.”
Well, it’s not all a business negotiation, initially flashed into his thoughts, followed by, On the other hand, maybe for this society it needs to be.
&n
bsp; They hadn’t spoken of love, but he supposed a harsher life put a high premium on the practical details of a marriage. The omission suited him. Events had moved faster than he felt comfortable with, and he wasn’t ready to give declarations of love if he wasn’t certain of his feelings.
“I’m just saying the future is complex and uncertain enough, so ideas are good,” he said, “but too many details are bound to change.”
She frowned. “Are you telling me you may not want to marry me?”
Christ, how did the conversation go in this direction? he wondered.
“I just think we’ve talked seriously enough for one evening. What’s wrong with us thinking about all this and continuing another day?”
Maghen’s jaw moved sideways in a motion like Mark’s mother used to make when she thought of an answer. Maghen sighed. “All right. I’ll admit you’ve been more patient and responsive than most men who are pressed to think about the future. Maybe you should kiss me now.”
So he did. Her breasts under the nightshirt pressed enticingly against his chest, as he drew her to him. He decided one advantage of choosing a woman closer to his own height was not having to lean down too far for their lips to meet.
His kiss was evidently not passionate enough. She curled one arm around his neck to lock them together harder, their lips pushed against teeth. When his right hand moved down to stroke her buttocks, she drew back and moaned. “Get your clothes off!”
They separated, but only long enough for her to whip off the nightshirt and wait impatiently the few more seconds it took him to shed all his clothes.
She grabbed a hand and pulled him to the bed, then fell on her back and jerked him on top of her.
“Oomph!” she expelled, as his weight fell on her. Then, as he transferred his weight to knees and arms, she clasped her legs around him. He guided himself to her, and they merged, both of them sighing.
The bed frame rocked, slowly at first, then faster, as the rhythm accelerated. When she cried out, he followed suit moments later, the bed thudding against the wall hard three times before the rocking and vocalizations died away.
They stayed joined, as their pulses and breathing returned to near normal.
“You’re certainly more considerate than the other men. They never waited for me.”
The information stymied Mark, unsure what to do with it, especially considering their positions. It was one more reinforcement that he was now a member of an unfamiliar society that wasn’t on Earth. Although, in either setting, he wouldn’t have expected to be graded so soon after intercourse. However, after a moment, his curiosity got the best of him.
“Uh . . . how many men was that?”
“Three. Is that considered too many by your people? You said it didn’t bother you that you aren’t my first man.”
“No, that’s no problem, but we don’t usually talk about previous partners, so it’s something you don’t need to tell me.”
“All right, if you prefer. I suppose that means you’d rather I didn’t ask about your previous experiences either.”
“Right. Oh, and how’s your leg this time?” Mark asked, eager to change the subject.
“Fine,” said Maghen, giggling. “The blanket on the ground was all right, but a bed is nicer. Also, the sun isn’t in my eyes now, and there’s no bug on my leg like before. I couldn’t quite reach it to knock it off, but I figure you wouldn’t take that long.”
Mark laughed, withdrew, and rose to his knees. “You are definitely ‘earthy,’ Maghen.”
“Earthy? What does that word mean?”
“Ah . . . something like ‘down to Anyar.’ Meaning a practical, uncomplicated, honest person.”
“That sounds good. Yes, I want to always be a ‘down to Anyar’ woman. In fact, that sounds appropriate for what I’m about to ask. When can we do this again?”
Mark leaned down and kissed her. “Not for a while. Let’s get a little sleep and see what happens later.”
Despite his suggestion, he had a question.
“Uh . . . shouldn’t we be concerned about your getting with child?”
“Harumph! Any woman who doesn’t know her cycle should be kept under control by her family. It’s been a sixday since the two moons separated, so I can’t get pregnant for another several sixdays. At least for me. Other women are fertile at different times of the moon cycles.”
Mark listened with surprise at her further description of the cycles of Anyar women that synchronized with the two moons’ orbits. It was the first time he’d learned about the thirty-six-day menstrual cycle on Anyar synchronized to the moons. Although each woman’s cycle varied, it was consistent for her with the moons’ phases. It was one more mystery—the coincidence being that the average cycle on Earth closely matched Luna’s periods and now a similar association on Anyar.
Seven hours and two rounds later, Mark slipped back to the single men’s barracks after promising Maghen he would give serious thought to what they had talked about. The short walk gave him enough time to visualize a different future than he’d first imagined in the alien spacecraft and then during his time in Tregallon. Instead of all the innovations that would revolutionize this alien planet, he now foresaw spending the rest of his life in the central Frangel ranch country and raising a family with Maghen. He also wondered whether it could end up being more fulfilling than either his life on Earth or his initial ambitions on Anyar.
Talks and night visits continued for the rest of the sixday until the Ofalyn sisters returned. Any doubts Mark had of Maghen’s interest in their future together were as long gone as his own trepidation. However, one step remained. He told her that his people’s custom was for the man to make the formal proposal of marriage. She didn’t see why a woman couldn’t do it, and she would wait only so long before usurping his role.
He wanted to pick a time for maximum impact. As controlled and relatively unflappable as Maghen usually was, he wanted to catch her by surprise. The occasion occurred at evening meal the next Godsday when the Toodmans hosted a once-a-month dinner at the main house.
Twenty-five people gathered for the meal, adults and a few children. Mark sat next to Maghen in the middle of one side of the long table. Leesta Toodman orchestrated serving the main course of roast beef, a starchy tuber Mark thought of as potato, several vegetables unknown on Earth, olives, freshly baked bread, and beer. The latter was cool, not cold, because there was no artificial refrigeration—a lack Mark idly thought about addressing one day.
The meal was as noisy as the others Mark had attended at the main house. When everyone seemed finished with the main course, Maghen rose to help clear the table in preparation for a traditional Frangelese sweet dish—what Mark compared to a tort. Leesta, Maghen, and two other women carried a large cooking pan out from the kitchen and tilted the confection for everyone to see before cutting began.
“Honey and yusterberries,” announced Leesta to appreciative exclamations. “Thanks to Tylmar for finding a honey tree two months ago.”
Tylmar stood and took a bow. The gooey honey was a sap modification, instead of nectar from insects, but the consistency and the sugar content compared favorably. Mark had noticed the lack of sweetened foods when he lived in Tregallon. Sugarcane and sugar beets had not made the transplantation to at least this part of Anyar. The local honey was the only sweetener, as far as Mark knew. The source was a parasitic vine that slowly engulfed a tree. Once the original tree died, the sweet sap was produced for only a few months while the vine switched from growth to a reproductive state. The sap was prohibitively expensive and was saved for only special occasions.
While admiring the large tort, Mark wondered whether it would be possible to farm the honey by deliberately encouraging vines to infect trees.
I’ll have to think about that and ask questions, thought Mark.
He laughed, which drew questioning looks from nearby guests.
“Just thinking of something else the tort reminded me of,” he said, which was true.
Even if he had given up grandiose plans for introducing innovations, it didn’t stop his thinking about what might be, or might have been, possible.
Nothing wrong with thinking, as long as I don’t get carried away again, he told himself.
Leesta cut the tort, and Maghen picked up five wooden plates holding generous tort portions. She stopped at the other side of the table and let Tir Murklyn relieve her of two plates, one for himself and one for his wife. When she moved to the next guest, Mark pounded on the table with his fist and spoke loudly, “Attention, please, everyone. Attention. There’s something I’d like to say.”
The hubbub faded, and Maghen stopped in place with a questioning look.
“I’d like to thank the Toodmans for the invitation to this meal. As always, the food has been wonderful, and Leesta’s tort I’m sure will match or surpass that. I also want to give my appreciation to everyone who helped me feel I’m making a place here. I came with nothing but what I carried and with no plans for the future. Now I find myself convinced I’ll spend the rest of my life in this part of Frangel. I hope that all of you will be part of my life.
“Now, while all that is true, what I really want all of you to know is that Maghen Lorwell and I have agreed to be married.”
Surprised silence was ended by “THUD,” as one of the tort plates slipped from Maghen’s control and hit the floor.
Mark had waited to speak until he was out of reach of certain strong arms occupied with balancing tort plates. Shouts and congratulations erupted, and the sweet course was delayed for twenty minutes. Mark knew he was respected, but he only then realized the level of affection the ranch family and all the workers held for Maghen.
A slap on the back drew Mark’s attention.
“About time,” said Keeslyn Toodman. “Leesta’s been telling me for months she thought something would develop between you two. Then recently she hinted she expected there would soon be news. I don’t know if the two of you have made plans for where you’ll live, but I hope it’s here at least for a while. The worker cottages are full now, but I’ll talk with you about building another one.”
Passages Page 30
