Shockball (20 page)

Before I could try to explain my way out of that one, the bridegroom’s party arrived. Veda promptly excused herself and returned to the hogan. Hok stayed with me and Reever to explain what was happening.

First the bridegroom’s family presented the dowry gift to the bride’s family. This consisted of traditional gifts—rugs, blankets, silver jewelry, baskets, pottery, and a saddle—all beautifully worked and obviously precious. The groom and his family immediately went into another, larger hogan, to sit down by the fire, while the bride and her family sorted through the gifts.

I nudged Reever. “How come I never got any wedding presents like that when I married you?”

“Conventional Hsktskt union celebrations include sacrificing a warm-blooded animal. The newly united pair must drink the blood for luck.”

I cringed. “That’s a good reason.”

Veda Wolfkiller emerged from the hogan, carrying a beautifully woven basket, inside which was an equally elaborate clay pot. It held special ceremonial corn mush, Hok told me. She was followed by other female family members, bearing platters of food. They walked through the village to a large, obviously recently constructed hogan. Hok told us to follow them inside.

Bundles of dried corn cobs and beautifully patterned wool rugs lined the walls of the hogan. It was crowded, and a little stuffy, but Reever and I found a place out of the way by the door. As we watched, Veda handed her basket to her daughter, and embraced her. The bride then joined her groom on the opposite side of the fire, and with great formality presented him with the mush. Once that was done, she sat down on his right.

“Now the ceremony begins,” Hok said in a low voice.

My scalp prickled, and I felt a low, distinct sense of awareness hum over my nerves. Although I hadn’t seen him yet, Rico had to be somewhere close by, and he was… preoccupied?

My new empathic warning system proved to be right as Rico, dressed in an elaborate Navajo costume, abruptly walked through the entrance to the Hogan. He carried a wicker jug and a strange-shaped vegetable over to the wedding couple. As he approached them, everyone fell silent.

“Is that a squash?” I asked Hok in a whisper. Seemed like an odd wedding gift.

“No, a gourd ladle for the water in the jug.”

Rico handed the gourd ladle to the bride, then poured water from the wicker jug into it. The bride turned and poured the water from the ladle over her groom’s hands. She then handed him the ladle, and he repeated the same process with Rico for her.

“Now he will take out his bag of corn pollen,” Hok told me.

“You people sure have a thing for corn,” I said.

Rico removed a small bag, from which he pinched some pollen and squatted down to sprinkle it over the basket of mush. He did this from right to left, then up and down. After that, he made a circle of pollen around the basket, then tucked the bag away.

I made a mental note to test Spotted Dog for pollen allergies.

The chief stood and addressed the tribe. “If any here have protest to the turning of the basket, speak it now.”

Hok anticipated my question and said, “It’s symbolic of turning the minds of the bride and groom toward each other.”

No one had any protests to make, so Rico turned the basket of mush. “Take a pinch of the corn mush at the edge, where the pollen ends at the east,” he told the groom.

The groom took it, and put it in his mouth. The bride did the same. They continued by taking pinches of pollen from the pattern sprinkled around the basket, and eating that. When they were finished, there were sudden, startling shouts of approval from the tribe.

I couldn’t help smiling. “That means they’re married now?”

“Yes.”

I looked at Reever and remembered the daylong ritual he’d made me go through on Catopsa. “The Hsktskt could learn a thing or two from these people.”

Rico called for everyone to begin the feast, and Hok went with us to the tables set up along the back wall of the hogan. We were handed enormous plates of food and servers of hot tea, and smiled at by everyone.

“They seem pretty happy, don’t they?” I said in a low tone to Reever when we sat back down. “I guess no one cries at Navajo weddings.”

“Not every culture considers marriage a tragedy,” Reever said.

Hok left us there, and we listened to some of the bride’s family talking about another wedding being planned. Veda, I noticed, was missing. When I asked where she was, so I could thank her for allowing us to attend, one of the bride’s brothers explained the custom of the mother-in-law leaving after the presentation of the bridal corn mush.

“It is so she can avoid looking upon her daughter’s husband,” he told me. “It is bad manners for her to stay, just as it would be impolite of my sister’s husband to enter our mother’s hogan.”

“Why?”

The man shrugged. “It prevents trouble in the family.”

The feast was delicious, and I was happy to see Reever eating well. Once everyone was done, one of the groom’s relatives stood up and made a speech. He thanked the bride’s family for the food and their reception, and the gift of their daughter.

When he was done, Rico stood over the bride and groom, and started instructing them on how they should conduct themselves as man and wife, including what they needed to do on their sleeping mat. The latter was put in such frank terms that I was appalled.

“Whiteskins never talk about proper conduct in the making of children,” the bride’s brother said, when he saw my wide eyes. “That is why we think so many never stay together.”

The Night Horse had no problem with Rico’s candid instructions, and joyously accompanied the bridal couple to their new lodge.

That left me and Reever and Hok standing in the ceremonial hogan. “They will stay in there together for four days and nights,” Hok said. “We will go back to
Leyaneyaniteh
now.”

“May we have a moment alone?” Reever asked him.

Hok nodded and limped out.

“Don’t,” I said, as soon as we were alone. “You’re already exhausted, and we still have a long walk ahead of us. We’ll find another way out of this, when you’ve recovered.”

He brushed his lips over my hair, then my nose. Then he hugged me, hard enough to displace a few vertebra. “I could distract them while you go.”

“I’m not leaving. I’m
never
leaving you.” I was instantly, irrationally furious. Bad enough I had to deal with my own desperation, but did he have to keep pushing me away? “Don’t ever ask me to do that again.”

He sighed. “We’ll go back.”

Once we returned with the Night Horse to the underground tunnels, I took Reever to Medical and performed a thorough scan.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” I went to get a syrinpress, and found my wrist clamped by his hand.

“Come with me.”

I went, mostly because I didn’t want to fight with him anymore. Then I saw his eyes as he hauled me into the hogan we’d been given in the central cavern. They weren’t cold and gray any longer.

“You’re in no shape to do this,” I said as soon as he let go of me. “You’ve already pushed yourself too hard tonight. I should have you on continuous monitor in Medical. Your incision hasn’t healed yet, and your kidney—”

“My kidney will be fine.” He closed the door flap and reached for me. “I have other concerns.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“I’m not sure what the source of this perpetual ache is. Perhaps you should examine me.”

He wasn’t angry—he was
teasing
me.

By the light of the small fire in the center of the hogan, I could just make out the muscles flexing as he pulled off his borrowed shirt. For the first time since his surgery, I didn’t use my physician’s eye to inspect him. Tonight I could relax for a few hours and be a woman.

His woman.

I moved closer and placed a hand in the center of his bare chest. “Something wrong with your heart?”

“Here.” He pressed my fingers against his skin, rubbing them over the strong, steady pulse beating there. “It sometimes aches.”

“Angina attacks. Hmmm, not a good sign in a man your age.” I leaned forward and kissed the smooth skin. “What else hurts?”

“My hands.” He moved them up my arms, over my shoulders. “They feel heavy. Empty.”

“Could be osteoarthritis setting in.” I took his wrists and moved his hands down, until I could slide them under the hem of my tunic. “Try to keep them warm. Anything else?”

His eyes became glittering slits as he pulled my tunic over my head and dropped it behind me, then stared down at my breasts. “My… mouth. It aches, too.”

“You’ve been depriving yourself again.” I lifted a hand and traced the firm line that never seemed to bend. “Maybe you’re just a little hungry.”

“Hungry.” He bent down, pulling me up off my feet at the same time. “Yes. That’s it. I’m hungry.” His warm breath touched my lips. “For you.”

More like starving, I thought, my neck arching back under the force of his kiss. But he shouldn’t have been lifting me. I wiggled out of his grasp, backed up to our sleeping mat, and held out my hand.

“Come to me, Duncan.”

The firelight made small, jumping shadows that passed over his face, briefly illuminating, then hiding the beads of sweat on his brow. He came toward me, then paused and pressed a hand to his side.

The physician in my head mentally kicked me in the libido. “Maybe continuing your, um, deprivation is the best.”

“Give me a moment. It will pass.”

No, it wouldn’t. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was in pain. With a silent, admittedly selfish groan, I resigned myself to another couple of nights of chaste cuddling.

I lifted my outstretched hand and faked smothering a yawn. “You know, I’m really tired. How about a rain check on this?”

“You are a terrible liar.” Reever eased down beside me and took my hand. His breathing sounded rapid and shallow, and his skin temperature felt icy. “Im sorry, Cherijo.”

“You can make it up to me when you feel better.” I pulled a blanket over us and warmed him with my body. “Go to sleep, Duncan.”

He fell asleep in my arms.

I wasn’t so fortunate. Reever had a way of arousing all the basic feelings in me, and they weren’t going to let me get off that easy. Eventually I extricated myself from his embrace, rose from the mat, and wandered out in the cave. Everyone was still asleep, but someone had left a pot of tea warming beside the banked fire. I poured myself a cup, and sat down.

Hok had been very canny, to invite me to the wedding. No doubt all part of his campaign to have me voluntarily join the Night Horse. It was even logical, in a sense. I needed sanctuary. The tribe needed a doctor.

What would it be like, if I had no other choice but to stay with them? Would they allow me and Reever to live on the surface? Could we make a place for ourselves with these people? My ancestors had once lived like this, and for the first time in my life I understood the allure of a simple, uncomplicated existence.

Like the wedding ceremony. A “whiteskin” couple in my former social sphere would have spent thousands of credits on a huge, elaborate service held in some pristine religious shrine. Compared to the Navajos’ simple bonding act of sharing food and gifts, a traditional Caucasian wedding seemed almost sterile.

Then I thought of what I had left behind, and all the attraction abruptly faded. These weren’t my people, this wasn’t my world. I needed to get off it, to get back to my real family.

Something made the back of my neck tingle, then a long shadow fell over me.

“You do not sleep tonight, little patcher?”

I put aside the cup. “No, chief, I was only thirsty.”

“Stay. I wish to speak with you.”

That was the very last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn’t think of a plausible reason to go—not counting this bizarre, unwelcome awareness I had of him.

He sat beside me. “What did you think of our ceremony?”

Might as well be honest. “It was lovely.”

“You have done well with my players. Small Fox no longer must shave before and after the games. Blood Warrior’s legs grow straighter. And Spotted Dog now seeks a new name.”

“My success rate isn’t one hundred percent.” I thought of the one player I had sent back to Rico untreated. Removing the hard layer of keratin plaque covering Black Otter’s entire body would have killed him.

“You do what can be done. That pleases me very much. I am glad you have joined us.”

“I haven’t joined anything. I can’t live in a cave forever.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve been spoiled by the little comforts, like running water and automated waste disposal.”

“You will grow accustomed to our ways.” He chuckled and put his arm around me. I felt him tug at my braid. “You should wear your hair like our women do.”

He was suggesting hairstyles, while putting his hands on me and radiating what felt like intense, focused desire. I didn’t think it was due to the fact he wanted to see me look like an Indian maiden. Reever lay sleeping just a couple of yards away. If he woke up—

“I’m not a member of the tribe.”

“You have been made welcome, haven’t you?”

“I have my own people, my own clan.”

“Tell me about them.”

I told Rico how the Jorenians had saved me from being abducted by the League from K-2. He asked about the year I’d spent serving on the
Sunlace
, and what my visit to Joren had been like.

When I was done, he said, “They are not your blood.”

“No.” I thought of Joe, and Maggie. “But they are my family.”

“We are your family now.”

I stared at him. I’d never really looked at his face before, never noticed that his eyes weren’t brown or black, but dark blue. He had the Navajo bone structure, and the dark skin and hair, but I’d bet there was some Caucasian blood in his veins. The narrowness of his face, the long chin, and his height indicated that.

He was without a doubt the handsomest man in the tribe. I could acknowledge that much without violating my commitment to Reever.

He yanked on my braid again. “Loosen it for me.”

“Why?”

Rico’s gaze wandered over my face, then went south. “I have never seen you with your hair down.”