No Other Love

by Speer, Flora

She wakened at midday to find Herne gone. When she sat up she discovered she was almost too weak to get out of bed. It was hunger that drove her upright, that sent her to the bathing room to splash cold water on her face, then lured her to Dulan’s kitchen. She had to find something to eat.

  There were two large round loaves of bread on the table. Merin tore at one, breaking it into pieces and chewing on the crust. With half a loaf in her stomach, the relentless, empty gnawing eased. She looked around for some other food.

  “Would you like batreen, or just water?”

  “Dulan, I’m sorry I demolished your bread. It’s just that I’m so hungry.”

  “I understand.” Dulan handed her a pitcher of foaming, freshly brewed batreen. “I left the food for you and Herne.”

  “No matter how much I eat, I’m never filled.” The batreen smelled of the grain used to make it. Her hunger returning, not caring what effect the intoxicating drink had upon her, Merin filled a cup and drained it with greedy relish. “Where is Herne?”

  “He has gone to try to convince Saray to take him to Ananka,” Dulan said, refilling Merin’s cup. “Since Saray is still with Hotan, who is intensely jealous of other men, I doubt if Herne will be successful.”

  “You’re right about that.” Herne walked into the kitchen looking wan and tired. With his eyes on the bread, he added, “Saray says perhaps tomorrow Ananka will see me.”

  “Eat,” said Dulan. “I know you are hungry.”

  Herne snatched up the half loaf Merin had left and began to chew on it.

  “Do you think we could find Ananka by ourselves, without waiting for Saray?” Merin asked him. “I’ll search with you if you want.”

  “No thanks.” Without looking at her, Herne took the cup of batreen that Dulan offered him. “I’ll search the garden by myself later today. But what I’d like to do before then, Dulan, is return to our shuttlecraft. We were badly shaken up during our flight and not thinking too clearly after we landed. It’s possible that we missed something important when we went over the ship the first time.”

  “I’ll go too,” Merin said.

  “It’s not necessary,” Herne began.

  “It is necessary!” she blazed at him, angered by the way he was trying to ignore her presence. “I piloted that ship. I know it as well as you do. I am going with you.”

  “As will Tula and I,” said Dulan, putting an end to the quarrel. “We are both curious about the ship in which you came here, and we may be of some help.”

  “It’s a long walk,” Herne protested.

  “Which is why I will have Tula bring his cart and ixak from the stables,” said Dulan. “I do not think it wise for either of you to waste your strength on the walk.”

  Dulan left them. Herne picked up another chunk of bread. Merin laid her hand on his wrist. Herne looked at it with so cold an expression that she immediately removed it.

  “I am still the same Merin I was yesterday,” she said.

  “True, but yesterday I didn’t know the real Merin, did I?”

  “I wish you would not hate me.”

  “Hate?” He put down the bread untasted. “I don’t know exactly what I do feel for you, but it’s not hate. It will take some time for me to get used to the idea that you are a – that you are what you are. In the meantime, there is the problem of how to get back to where we belong. If I could just find Ananka.”

  “Did Saray give you no help at all?”

  “I had the impression that she might have provided some information, but Hotan was there. I think Hotan wants to keep Saray to himself, perhaps in hope of using Ananka’s power in some way, while Saray wants to keep Ananka to herself. I also think Hotan and Saray are sleeping together. Whatever intrigue is going on in that trio, you and I are caught in the middle of it.”

  “Meanwhile, the Cetans may attack at any time,” said Merin.

  “Which means I have to get to Ananka fast,” Herne told her.

  * * * * *

  The shuttlecraft appeared to be untouched since they had left it. They crowded inside, Dulan and Tula expressing great interest in the workings of the ship, while Herne and Merin tried unsuccessfully to start the engines.

  “We do have a few mechanics who maintain our air transportation vehicles,” Tula said. “If you think they will be able to help you, I will call upon them.”

  “I’m no mechanic,” Herne admitted, “but these are relatively simple engines, and I can find nothing wrong with them that any mechanic might fix.”

  “Nor can I,” said Merin. “I think the problem isn’t mechanical at all. It’s something to do with our movement through time.”

  “Then it is possible that only Ananka can repair the ship,” said Dulan.

  “We always return to Ananka.” Herne sounded resentful. “Let’s go back to the city and demand that Saray take us to Ananka immediately.”

  “Saray is not amenable to demands,” said Dulan, climbing out of the shuttlecraft.

  “I don’t care what she’s amenable to,” Herne responded rudely. “I’ll threaten to kill her if I have to. I’ll do anything so we can clear out of this cursed place.”

  This was the Herne whom Merin had first known, irritable, abrupt, seeming not to care whose feelings he hurt. She knew him better now, so she was able to see beneath the hard surface. She could tell he was in pain, and it was her doing. Her heart ached for him but still, she could not allow him to insult their two best friends in Tathan.

  “You know you don’t mean that,” she protested. “You wouldn’t harm Saray.”

  “Give me a fair chance to reach Home again,” Herne snarled, “and see what I’ll do to make it happen.”

  “You are right,” Dulan told him, much to Merin’s surprise. “It is absolutely essential that you leave Tathan as soon as possible.”

  Herne and Dulan walked away from the shuttlecraft, toward the cart in which they had come. Tula jumped out of the hatch to the ground with unexpected grace, considering his rotund shape. Just behind him Merin began her downward jump, but was overcome by a wave of dizziness. She fell out of the shuttlecraft onto Tula, who attempted to hold her upright. Neither of them made a sound, but as if a warning shout had been given, Dulan spun around, tugging at Herne’s sleeve. By the time Merin’s head had cleared, she was in Herne’s arms and he was carrying her toward the cart.

  “This cannot go on,” Tula said. “My friends, this affair must end before irreparable damage is done to your health.”

  “Stop babbling and help me get her into the cart,” Herne snapped. “And this time see if you can make those star-blasted ixak move at something faster than a slow walk. I know they can run; they did it yesterday.”

  “You need not swear at me, nor at my ixak,” Tula responded with injured dignity.

  “I don’t care how you do it, just get us back to Dulan’s house so Merin can lie down and rest,” Herne ordered.

  Merin did not care how long the return trip took. Herne laid her across the back seat of the cart. He sat at one side of the seat, holding her in his arms to brace her against the bumps and rattles of a hasty journey across rough ground. She let her head rest on his shoulder, allowing him to think she was ill, when in fact her head had cleared within a few minutes. It was wonderful to be so close to him again, to know he did care if she was sick.

  “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his cheek against hers, “Just a little longer and we’ll be at Dulan’s house. I’ll give you something to eat and put you to bed. I’m not feeling any too healthy myself. I think it’s the food. We have to get out of here.”

  She must have fallen asleep, or possibly she fainted, for the dizziness came once more and she was not fully aware of her surroundings again until Herne was setting her down on the bed in Dulan’s guest quarters. She let him remove her boots and even her coif, but when he reached for the fastening of her treksuit, she caught his hand, holding it against her bosom.

  “Take this off,” he said, “and get beneath the covers. You’ll sleep
better.”

  “I can’t sleep. I have to help you. Let me talk to Saray.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere until you’ve had some rest.” With the cool professionalism of a well-trained doctor he removed her treksuit, then eased her back on the bed. The harsh, angry Herne was gone. He ran a hand across her ribcage. It was a doctor’s touch, not a lover’s caress, but still it awoke a warmth in her. “You are much too thin, Merin. You’re fading away a little every day.”

  “I’m frightened.” Her fingertips brushed his lips. “Hold me. Make me feel safe.”

  “Neither of us is safe.” But he sat on the edge of the bed to pull her close. She craved the touch of his body so strongly that she thought she would melt into him. She could tell by the quick tightening of his arms that he was not unmoved by her nearness. She let her hands work their way around his waist. His lips touched her ear, the side of her jaw, her cheek. He would kiss her mouth next. She knew he would. He moved backward a little, staring hard at her. “I can’t do this,” he said.

  She was no longer a complete innocent. Her hands were still at his waist, and now she brought them forward, lowering them to fondle his hardness in the way he himself had taught her. She saw by the immediate closing of his expression that she had lost the chance to convince him there was still hope for them. He leapt off the bed, not stopping until he reached the door.

  “After we get back to headquarters,” he said, “assuming we ever do, then we can talk about what is between us, and what you are. Then, and only then, can we make a sensible decision on the kind of relationship we might have in the future. If there is a future for us.”

  “If love were sensible,” she cried, “I never would have fallen in love with you.”

  She tried to rise to follow him, but the dizziness assailed her again. She collapsed onto the pillows, closing her eyes to shut out the spinning, darkening room. When she recovered enough to open her eyes, Herne was gone.

  * * * * *

  “I think it’s the food,” Herne said to Dulan. “It doesn’t agree with us in some way. That’s why we don’t feel well.”

  “You have come close to the truth of your situation,” Dulan replied.

  Merin joined them in the sitting room, not taking a chair, but crouching on the raised hearth, as near to the fire as she could get. The chill and the dampness of the wet day were seeping into her bones. Herne did not look at her, but kept his attention on Dulan.

  “I have learned something unexpected from my direct physical contact with Merin earlier today,” Dulan said. “I discussed my findings with Jidak and Imra when I met with them, and they agreed that my conclusion must be correct.”

  “What conclusion?” Merin held her hands out to the fire, trying to warm them. Her treksuit, with its thermal adjustment properties, should have kept her warm or cool, depending on the temperature of her environment, but the cold she felt was inside her, the product of too many unfamiliar emotions and an ever-growing weakness.

  “You are both starving,” Dulan said. “Because you are in the wrong time, your digestive functions and our food are not compatible. You eat constantly, but only a small portion of what you consume provides nourishment to your bodies. For the most part, it’s as though you were not eating at all.”

  “But water quenches my thirst,” Merin said.

  “We do not fully understand the metabolic process involved. In this respect, water may be an immutable substance,” Dulan said. “We believe there may be other effects of the temporal displacement you have suffered. Merin, I know you are aware of a significant change in your ability to control your emotions.”

  “Are you saying,” asked Herne, “That what we feel for each other is only the result of where we are? That if – when – we return to our own time, our feelings will change?”

  “I do not know,” Dulan replied. “To my knowledge, no one has ever moved through time before.”

  “It would help,” Herne said with ice in his voice, “if we could return emotionally to where we were when we first came to this planet.”

  Merin caught her breath. There it was, laid out for her so that she could no longer deny the truth. Having finally learned what she was, Herne found her so repulsive and his desire for her so painful that he wanted to feel nothing for her. That being so, it would surely be better for her if she could arrange to feel nothing for him as well. She wondered if it would be possible for her to achieve the same control of her emotions that she had once maintained, and knew, with a rising sense of despair, that she could not.

  “I’m going to see Saray.” His expression fierce, Herne stood and headed for the door. “I’ll force her to contact Ananka.”

  “Force won’t help,” said Dulan. But Herne was gone. Dulan’s head was bowed. “He is in terrible pain. He loves and hates at the same time, fears and hopes in the same moment. Hourly he grows weaker, but he will strive for your safe return until he dies.”

  “If he dies,” Merin whispered, “I will die, too. If he is gone, it won’t matter to me.”

  “You should rest. I have an appointment with Jidak, who believes the Chon may be able to help you.”

  Left alone, Merin wandered into the kitchen in search of food. She found bread and ixak cheese laid out together, and a bowl of fruit, but she did not eat. She was too angry. Rage against the circumstances of her life, against the lies she had been taught throughout her youth, fury toward Ananka and Saray for their heedless experiment that had brought Herne and her to Tathan, a sense of the unfairness of it all filled her, giving her a desperate strength.

  “I won’t lie down and die,” she swore. “I won’t let Herne die, either.”

  She ran out of Dulan’s house, along the alley and through the door at the rear of the Gathering Hall. She climbed the steps, where she stood with her back to the Hall, facing the garden, trying to recall every detail of the investigation she and Herne had once undertaken through the ruins of both Hall and garden while they explored the site with Tarik.

  “Now then,” she said, suiting action to her muttered words, “we walked down the steps, and across the garden to this spot. There was a tree just here, and another here, and then a steep slope. I tripped and rolled to the bottom.”

  Pushing through the shrubbery, she came up against the garden wall. She knew Herne had done the same thing many times in his own futile search for Ananka’s grotto. Frustrated, she beat at the wall with both hands, but it remained solid, with no sign of a break or crack in its smooth white surface. On the other side of the wall was a house similar to Dulan’s, one of a series of buildings that clustered near the Gathering Hall.

  “Where are you, Ananka?” Merin shouted. “Stop hiding. Come out and show yourself. Ananka!”

  There was no response. Merin leaned her back against the wall, mentally going over every step she had taken through the garden.

  With a fluttering sound a green Chon settled a short distance from her. At the same time, Saray stepped from behind a bush, giving the appearance of having materialized out of air.

  “Herne is looking for you,” Merin said.

  “I know. Jidak has told me of your illness. He blames me for it.”

  “So do I.” Merin had never dared to use such a challenging tone to anyone before, but her anger was with her still. “What are you going to do about us, Saray? Will you just let us die?”

  “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do,” Saray replied. “Let me explain. I want you to understand. I did not want this new ability. My life was planned to be a simple one spent perfecting my talent. We all knew it was exceptional. There is no special merit attached to it. I was born with it, as I was born with dark hair and eyes, but like intelligence or an inborn skill in music, telepathic ability exists to be developed for the benefit of all. For the sake of that talent I married an elderly man who became my tutor after I left Dulan’s schooling.

  “Ananka approached me; I did not seek her. At first, my husband encouraged me to experiment with time, as Ananka
wanted, in order to expand my powers. I did not question his urging. I believed myself safe because I had his experience and strength to guide me. But he died, leaving me with no advisor, for I would no long listen to Dulan. I thought Ananka was mentor enough, and I had become completely immersed in our experiments.

  “More than a year after my husband died, Hotan came to my home to make some repairs. He is a carpenter, a man young and vigorous, while I am approaching middle age. I had never enjoyed physical love until Hotan lay with me. Merin, do you know what it is to want a man you should not desire, a man who can bring you only pain? Have you ever loved so deeply that you cannot stop what you know should not happen?”

  “Yes,” Merin said, “I know.” The all-too-familiar dizziness struck her, and she put out a hand to the nearest solid object, steadying herself on the Chon. The bird did not move; it did not even look at her. Its soft black eyes were on Saray, but as Merin’s hand rested on the green feathers, strength returned to her shaking arms and legs and her thoughts began to clear.

  “Of course you understand,” Saray said. “You love Herne.”

  “Herne does not love me,” Merin said sadly. “Not anymore.”

  “Nor does Hotan love me,” Saray told her. “What he wants in me is my telepathic power. While I am, for the first time in my life, enthralled by the pleasures of a man’s body.” She put her hand on the Chon’s breast, laying her head against it in a gesture of profound sorrow.

  “And now I will lose everything dear to me,” she said. “My truest friends have forsaken me, because of what I have done. Ananka has drained my power for her experiments until it barely exists any more. Once it is gone, it cannot be replenished. When Hotan learns how weak I have become, he will leave me.

  “There will be other, younger women for him, but I will live the remainder of my life alone, without the talent that gave the deepest meaning to my existence. Dulan was right about the experiments: they are wrong. Worse, they are morally dangerous. In my pride I believed for a while that I could change time itself. Now I know the power Ananka promised me was an illusion and, as Dulan warned, I feel madness gradually overtaking my mind.”