At The Edge Of Space (Hanan Rebellion) (8 page)

“Mim agrees,” said Kurt. Then he thought that it was not his place to have asked Mim, and that he shamed her and embarrassed Hef; but Hef regarded him with patience and even a certain kindliness.

“But I must ask Mim,” said Hef. “That is the way of it. And then I must speak to Kta-ifhan, and to Nym and lady Ptas.”

“Does the whole house have to give consent?” Kurt let forth, without pausing to think.

“Yes, my lord. I shall speak to the family, and to Mim. It is proper that I speak to Mim.”

“I am honored,” Kurt murmured the polite phrase; and he went upstairs to his own quarters to gather his nerves.

He felt much relieved that it was over. Hef would consent. He was sure what Mim would answer her father, and that would satisfy Hef.

He was preparing for bed when Kta came up the stairs and asked admittance. The nemet had a troubled look and Kurt knew by sure instinct what had brought him. He would almost have begged Kta to go away, but he was under Kta’s roof and he did not have that right.

“You have talked with Hef,” Kurt said, to make it easier for him.

“Let me in, my friend.”

Kurt backed from the door, offering Kta a chair. It would have been proper to offer tea also. He would have had to summon Mim for that. He would not do it.

“Kurt,” said Kta, “please, sit down also. I must speak to you—I must beg your kindness to hear me.”

“You might find it more comfortable simply to tell me what is in your mind from the beginning,” Kurt said, taking the other chair. “Yes or no, are you going to interfere?”

“I am concerned for Mim. It is not as simple as you may hope. Will you hear me? If your anger forbids,—then we will go down and drink tea and wait for a better mind, but I am bound to say these things.”

“Mim told me—about most that I imagine you have come to say. And it makes no difference. I know about the Tamurlin and I know where she came from.”

Kta let his breath go, a long hiss of a sigh. “Well, that is something at least. You know that she is Indras?”

“None of that possibly concerns me. Nemet politics have nothing to do with me.”

“You choose ignorance. That is always a dangerous choice, Kurt. Being of the Indras race or being Sufaki is a matter of great difference among nemet, and you are among nemet.”

“The only difference I have ever noticed is being human among nemet,” he said, controlling his temper with a great effort. “I would bring disgrace on you. Is that what you care for, and not whether Mim would be happy?”

“Mim’s happiness is a matter of great concern to us,” Kta insisted. “And we know you would not mean to hurt her, but human ways—”

“Then you see no difference between me and the Tamurlin.”

“Please. Please. You do not imagine. They are not like you. That is not what I meant. The Tamurlin—they are foul and they are shameless. They wear hides and roar and mouth like beasts when they fight. They have no more modesty than beasts in their dealing with women. They mate as they please, without seeking privacy. They restrain themselves from nothing. A strong chief may have twenty or more women, while weaker men have none. They change mates by the outcome of combat. I speak of human women. Slaves like Mim belong to any and all who want them. And when I found her—”

“I do not want to hear this.”

“Kurt,—listen. Listen. I shall not offend you. But when we attacked the Tamurlin to stop their raids—we killed all we could reach. We were about to set torch to the place when I heard a sound like a child crying. I found Mim in the corner of a hut. She wore a scrap of hide, as filthy as the rest of them; for an instant I could not even tell she was nemet. She was thin, and carried terrible marks on her body. When I tried to carry her, she attacked me—not womanlike, but with a knife and her teeth and her knees, whatever she could bring to bear. So she was accustomed to fight for her place among them. I had to strike her senseless to bring her to the ship, and then she kept trying to jump into the sea until we were out of sight of land. Then she hid down in the rowing pits and would not come out except when the men were at the oars. When we fed her she would snatch and run, and she would not speak more than a few syllables at a time save of human language.”

“I cannot believe that,” said Kurt quietly. “How long ago was that?”

“Four years. Four years she has been in Elas. I brought her home and gave her to my lady mother and sister, and Hef’s wife Liu, who was living then. But she had not been among us many days before Aimu saw her standing before the hearthfire with hands lifted, as Sufaki do not do. Aimu was younger then and not so wise; she exclaimed aloud that Mim must be Indras.

“Mim ran. I caught her in the streets, to the wonder of all Nephane and our great disgrace. And I carried her by force back to Elas. Then, alone with us, she began to speak, with the accent of Indresul. This was the reason of her silence before. But we of Elas are Indras too, like all the Great Families on the hill, descended of colonists of Indresul who came to this shore a thousand years ago, and while we are now enemies of Indresul, we are one religion and Mim was only a child. So Elas has kept her secret, and people outside know her only as Hef’s adopted Sufaki daughter, a country child of mixed blood rescued from the Tamurlin. She does not speak as Sufaki, but people believe we taught her speech; she does not look Sufaki, but that is not unusual in the coastal villages, where seamen have—
ei,
well, she passes for Sufaki. The scandal of her running through the streets is long forgotten. She is an honor and an ornament to this house now. But to have her in public attention again—would be difficult. No man would marry Mim; forgive me, but it is truth and she knows it. Such a marriage would cause gossip favorable to neither of you.”

Instinct told him Kta was speaking earnest good sense. He put it by. “I would take care of her,” he insisted. “I would try, Kta.”

Kta glanced down in embarrassment, then lifted his eyes again. “She is nemet. Understand me.
She
is nemet. She has been hurt and greatly shamed. Human customs are—forgive me: I shall speak shamelessly. I do not know how humans behave with their mates. Djan-methi is—free—in this regard. We are not. I beg you think of Mim. We do not cast away our women. Marriage is unbreakable.”

“I had expected so.”

Kta sat back a little. “Kurt—there could be no children. I have never heard of it happening, and Tamurlin have mated with nemet women.”

“If there were,” said Kurt, though what Kta had said distressed him greatly, “I could love them. I would want them. But if not, then I would be happy with Mim.”

“But could others love them?” Kta wondered. “It would be difficult for them, Kurt.”

It hurt. Some things Kta said amused him and some no little irritated him, but this was simply a fact of Kta’s world, and it hurt bitterly. For an instant Kurt forgot that the nemet thing to do was to lower his eyes and so keep his hurt private. He looked full at the nemet, and it was Kta who flinched and had to look up again.

“Would they,” Kurt said, cruel to the embarrassed nemet, “would children like that be such monsters, Kta?”

“I,” said Kta hesitantly, “
I
could love a child of my friend.” And the inward shudder was too evident.

“Even,” Kurt finished, “if it looked too much like my friend?”

“I beg your forgiveness,” Kta said hoarsely. “I fear for you and for Mim.”

“Is that all?”

“I do not understand.”

“Do you want her?”

“My friend,” said Kta, “I do not love Mim, but Mim is dear to me, and I am responsible for her as my honored father is. He is too old to take Mim; but when I married, I should have been obliged to take Mim for a concubine, for she is
chan
and unmarried—and I would not have been sorry for that, for she is a most beloved friend, and I would have been glad to give her children to continue Hef’s name. When you ask her of Hef, you see,—that is a terrible thing. Hef is childless. Mim is his adopted daughter, but we had agreed her children would remain in Elas to carry on his name and give his soul life when he dies. Mim must bear sons, and you cannot give them to her. You are asking for Hef’s eternity and that of all his ancestors. Hef’s family has been good and faithful to Elas. What shall I do, my friend? How shall I resolve this?”

Kurt shook his head helplessly, unsure whether Kta thought there could be an answer, or whether this was not some slow and painful way of telling him no.

“I do not know,” Kurt said, “whether I can stay in Elas without marrying Mim. I want her very much, Kta. I do not think that will change tomorrow or for the rest of my life.”

“There is,” Kta offered cautiously, “an old custom—that if the
lechan
’s husband dies and the house of the
chan
is threatened with extinction, then the duty is with the lord of the house nearest her age. Sometimes this is done even with the
lechan
’s husband living, if there are no children after such a time.”

Kurt did not know whether his face went very pale or flushed, only that he could not for the moment move or look left or right, was trapped staring into the nemet’s pitying eyes. Then he recovered the grace to glance down. “I could even,” he echoed, “love a child of my friend.”

Kta flinched. “Perhaps,” said Kta, “it would be different with you and Mim. I see how much your heart goes toward her, and I will plead your case with Hef and give him my own pledge in this matter. And if Hef is won, then it will be easier to win my lord father and lady mother. Also I will talk to Mim about this custom we call
iquun.
”

“I will do that,” Kurt said.

“No,” said Kta gently. “It would be very difficult for her to hear such words from you. Believe me that I am right. I have known Mim long enough that I could speak with her of this. From her own betrothed it would be most painful. And perhaps we can give the matter a few years before we have concern for it. Our friend Hef is not terribly old. If his health fails or if years have passed without children, then will be the time to invoke
iquun.
I should in that case treat the honor of you and of Hef and of Mim with the greatest respect.”

“You are my friend,” said Kurt. “I know that you are Mim’s. If she is willing, let it be that way.”

“Then,” said Kta, “I will go and speak to Hef.”

 

The betrothal was a necessarily quiet affair, confirmed three days later at evening. Hef formally asked permission of lord Nym to give his daughter to the guest of Elas, and Kta formally relinquished his claim to the person of Mim before the necessary two witnesses, friends of the family; Han t’Osanef u Mur, father of Bel; and old Ulmar t’Ilev ul Imetan, with all their attendant kin.

“Mim-lechan,” said Nym, “is this marriage your wish?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And in the absence of your kinsmen, Kurt t’Morgan, I ask you to answer in your own name: do you accept this contract as binding, understanding that when you have sworn you must follow this ceremony with marriage or show cause before these families present? Do you accept under this knowledge, our friend Kurt t’Morgan?”

“I accept.”

“There is,” said Nym quietly, “the clause of
iquun
in this contract. The principals are of course Mim and Kurt, and thou, my son Kta, and Hef, to preserve the name of Hef. Three years are given in this agreement before
iquun
is invoked. Is this acceptable to all concerned?”

One by one they bowed their heads.

Two parchments lay on the table, and to them in turn first Nym and then t’Osanef and t’Ilev pressed their seals in wax.

Then lady Ptas pressed her forefinger in damp wax and so sealed both. Then she took one of the
phusmeha,
and with a bit of salt slipped it into the flames.

She uplifted her palms to the fire, intoning a prayer so old that Kurt could not understand all the words, but it asked blessing on the marriage.

“The betrothal is sealed,” said Nym. “Kurt Liam t’Morgan ul Edward, look upon Mim h’Elas e Hef, your bride.”

He did so, although he could not, must not touch her, not during all the long days of waiting for the ceremony. Mim’s face shone with happiness.

They were at opposite sides of the room. It was the custom. The nemet made a game of tormenting young men and women at betrothals, and knew well enough his frustration. The male guests, especially Bel and Kta, drew Kurt off in one direction, while Aimu and Ptas and the ladies likewise captured Mim, with much laughter as they hurried her off.

The bell at the front door rang, faintly jingling, untimely. Hef slipped out to answer it, duty and the normal courtesy of Elas taking precedence over convenience even at such a time as this.

The teasing ceased. The nemet laughed much among themselves, among friends, but there were visitors at the door, and the guests and the members of Elas both became sober.

Voices intruded—Hef,—Hef, who was the soul of courtesy, arguing; and the heavy tread of outsiders entering the hall, the hollow ring of a staff on polished stone, the voices of strangers raised in altercation.

There was silence in the
rhmei.
Mim, large-eyed, clung to Ptas’ arm. Nym went to meet the strangers in the hall, Kurt and Kta and the guests behind him.

They were the Methi’s men, grim-faced, in the odd-striped robes that some of the townsmen wore, hair plaited in a single braid down the back. They had the narrowness of eye that showed in some of the folk of Nephane, like Bel, like Bel’s father Han t’Osanef.

The Methi’s guards did not take that final step into the
rhmei,
where burned the hearthfire. Nym physically barred their way, and Nym, though silver-haired and a senior member of the Upei, the council of Nephane, was a big man and broad-shouldered. Whether through reverence for the place or fear of him, they came no further.

“This is Elas,” said Nym. “Consider again, gentlemen, where you are. I did not bid you here, and I did not hear the
chan
of Elas give you leave either.”