Should you wish to comment upon my story, I can be reached by
E-mail at:
delta @ nym . alias . net
Comments and critizisms are welcome.
Standard disclaimers: This is a work of fiction - no character
within is a depiction of any real person, living or dead. No
place or event described within exists outside of the writer's
imagination. Copyright retained by the author and this post
is for private use of the reader only. It is not to be published
in any form whatsoever, including being made available on BBSs or
web pages, without the express prior consent of author.
Any readers who are underage in the jurisdiction in which
they reside are asked to please pass by.
Delta.
A QUESTION OF HONOUR (c) 1995
by Delta
Part 1
The man stared at the dry creek bed with a mixture of loathing
and relief. Here it had started, here it would end. After looking
carefully in both directions he stepped out and crossed the cracked,
baked mud.
It was done. His shoulders slumped, betraying the exhaustion
which threatened to overcome him. He breathed deeply, preparing
himself for the hard slog to the spring.
It had been difficult, avoiding the waterholes during his
journey through the wasteland, yet he had done it willingly,
gladly. None would know of his leaving, all would assume that the
one which he had been had met some untimely, or perhaps timely, end.
None would suspect, would dream, that he had done what most
considered impossible. And most important of all, none would even
think to look for him.
He would have to think of a new name, he decided. The one he
had before first crossing the creek bed would no longer be appropriate.
That one, innocent in the ways of men, had died soon after the crossing,
leaving the one whose name was best forgotten. The one whose name
was best forgotten had died as well. It had been a lingering death,
or perhaps an awakening - both portended the same. Now there was only
the man, the past burned out of him by the sun, the haunted dreams
only ghosts of what they had been. Perhaps they would come no more.
He tried to laugh, but no sound came from his parched throat.
He needed water. He recognized the danger signs all too well.
He could no longer sweat. The name could wait, his thirst could not.
The man took a step, then another one. He did not look back. With
each step he could feel the ghost of the one whose name was best
forgotten ease away, further and further, until it was only a bad
memory.
The woman screamed and looked wildly about her for the escape
which was not there. Every fiber of her being radiated the terror,
the hopelessness of her position. Every fiber of her being lied.
Her assailant stood back and laughed as he looked at her proud
breasts which peeked from the ruins of her torn blouse. Fine, lightly
tanned breasts which heaved as she gulped in huge draughts of air;
fine breasts, a little more than a handful, which would feel so good
squashed against his chest. She could read it in his eyes, that and
the confidence of a man in a situation traveling a familiar path.
He would not guess until too late, until either the knife
attached to her forearm or the one in her boot slipped between his
ribs, that he had been led along the path like the tulk he was. He
had already replaced his hand weapon in its holster. He was supremely
confident.
She had thought that all of the raiders had left after the sack
of the caravan. Even so she had taken no chances and hid her charges
well, only occasionally venturing out for water. For the past two
days she had suspected that someone was hunting them and had acted
accordingly. It had done her no good, for he had caught her.
Yet it was his loss and her good fortune, for he had a pack
animal with him, loaded with goods from the sack of the caravan. They
would come in handy in the crossing of the wasteland. Yes, the gods
had been good. Now all she had to do was to lure him into her arms.
The man spoke in his foreign tongue. She stared blankly at him,
breasts still heaving. He licked his lips, then spoke in her language.
"No where to run, tulkwa." She looked down at the insult so he
wouldn't catch the anger in her eyes. "Why not just do yourself a
favour? Make me angry and you'll regret it."
It was time to answer. "I'll do anything you say if you promise
not to hurt me." Her body spoke of a defeated being, her voice soft
and breaking. She looked up at him, through her eyebrows. Did he
really think his predatious smile was calming?
"That's better. You and me can become good friends. Do as I
say and you won't be hurt," he lied.
She nodded minutely. It wouldn't be long now. Then movement
caught her eye and her stomach tightened. The tulk had a partner,
one who had, no doubt, heard her scream and was coming to join the
fun. Even at this distance she could see he had a shoulder weapon.
If she killed this one, she herself would be killed and then what
of the others? Her shoulders slumped. She would have to ride it
out, take what they wanted to dish out and wait for her opportunity.
It would come eventually, especially if she made it worth their
while to keep her alive, and she could do that.
The hand which grabbed her forearm shocked her back to reality.
Damn! He had closed his hand right over the sheathed knife and had
jumped back as he grabbed for his weapon. His eyes were narrow,
angry.
"Tulkwa! Did you think you could slip it through my ribs as
I took you?" He stepped back another pace. "Now you've made me
angry. It's going to be a long day for you." He spat. "Take it
off - slowly and carefully." His weapon was pointed at the middle
of her body - not a chance he would miss. "What's your name, tulkwa?"
"Takene," she answered defiantly, as she unstrapped the knife
and dropped it on the ground.
"Takene," he rolled the name over his tongue. "I prefer Tulkwa.
So, Tulkwa," he sneered, "don't stop there, keep going. Undress and
show me how pretty my little Tulkwa is." He laughed as she glared
at him.
The dirty, torn, tan blouse came off easily, exposing her breasts
to him. Nice thick nipples perched on the tips, pointing slightly
upwards. He licked his lips once more, but the weapon didn't waver
in the slightest.
"Pinch them," he grinned wickedly. She hesitated but, when she
saw his finger tightening on the trigger, gave in and brought her
hands up. She pinched her nipples and rubbed them, bringing them
out to their full glory. She could see he was excited by it, the
bulge in his pants growing. Behind him, his partner was still
approaching, not hurrying, sure there would be plenty left for him.
"Very pretty, little Tulkwa," he sneered, "now the boots -
slowly." She cursed to herself, and pulled up the pantsleg, turning
slightly to hide the knife. Her effort failed, and the brute's
eyes narrowed further. "Toss it carefully this way," he ordered and
she complied. "It's going to be a rough afternoon for you," he
promised.
The boots and socks came off and the brute grinned as she
hesitated once more. His grin widened as she began to strip off
her pants without his having to say anything. There was a new
admiration in his eyes and she knew what he was seeing. Her body
was lithe and willowy. Long shapely legs moved into softly rounded
hips. Her flat belly, promising delights within, melded smoothly
into her small waist and narrow chest. The breasts, mounted high
on that chest, appearing larger than they were, nicely contoured,
tipped with the now hard nipples. Her graceful neck coursed upwards
to her angular face with the prominent cheekbones; her cool grey eyes,
large and captivating, stared at him calmly, as her long black hair,
loosely tied behind, moved in the breeze.
She could see him calculating the risks. Have her, then kill
her and be safe, or risk the journey with a dangerous woman for the
high price she would surely bring. She moved slightly, sensuously,
to shift the odds a little in her favour. His eyes lit up at the
movement and again his tongue came out to wet his lips as she began
peeling off her undergarment. The small triangle of short black
hair pointed its way to paradise.
"Play with yourself," he ordered.
Takene flushed. He was going to derive the maximum of
satisfaction from her, she knew. Humiliation was just a part of
it. She moved one hand down to the junction of her legs and began
stroking softly, while the other hand returned to stroke her
nipples. The brute grinned. It was difficult for her to lubricate,
there was nothing exciting at all about her situation, yet she
knew it would be to her advantage. If she was going to be taken,
she might as well not suffer the pain of dry intercourse.
Takene cast her thoughts back, to other, better times, to her
man, before he had been killed. The gentle sweep of his hand
across her body had always excited her, thrilled her with the
knowledge of what was to come. Such a gentle, loving man. She
felt the juices beginning to flow and groaned as her now moistened
finger found her clit.
The brute moved forward, then stopped. "The others. Get them
out here."
"What others?" she questioned, her hopes dashed, her mind jerked
back to the present.
"Don't play with me, or I'll cripple you, find them, then come
back to have my pleasure." There was no joking, no subtlety in the
man. He would do exactly as he said, and then there would be no
chance at all.
"Iro, Lere, come out," she called.
Two youngsters appeared off to her right. The boy was in early,
the girl in late, adolescence. The brute saw that they were no threat,
and smiled. His partner, approaching from her left, had not seen the
youngsters yet. When he did, the girl, Iro, would reap the benefit
of his attention. Takene grimaced. Still, it was better than death,
she shrugged to herself. At least this way there was still a chance.
The body and mind would repair themselves in time.
Takene wondered at her ice-cold appraisal of the situation.
There was no emotion in it, none at all. It was unlike her, yet
the situation was unlike any she had ever faced, as well.
"Girl, watch carefully," the brute ordered. "Watch how the
Tulkwa does this, and learn. Learn well or you'll be beaten." He
turned his attention to Takene and leered at her. "You know what's
next."
Takene held herself tight inside as he undid his pants and his
member, large, thick and erect, sprang loose. He would want her to
crawl to him so she sank down to her knees. "Satisfy me enough and
the young one won't get it," he paused judiciously, "until tomorrow,"
he amended.
Takene contemplated fixing him, biting down hard, but the
weapon he pointed at Iro, as well as his partner, now mere meters
away, convinced her to play the game. She closed her eyes and
moistened her lips. She prayed she wouldn't gag.
Her eyes flew open at the sharp sound.
The scream caught the attention of the man. It meant people.
People were a danger, yet people meant water as well. He turned
and headed in the direction of the scream. His pack was heavy on
his back but he did not remove it. Once he put it down it was
unlikely that he would be able to pick it up once more, so he
stumbled on, like an automaton.
The uphill slope would have annoyed him before, now it simply
existed. Nothing was easy. It was just one more test. One more
test of the many he had taken in the journey. A rock rolled under
his foot and he caught himself before he fell. He dared not fall.
Looking up, he saw them across the field. The man and the
woman. The words which reached him he didn't understand. The
action he understood all too well. It was dangerous, what he was
doing. He knew this, but his body continued moving, as if the mind
had nothing to do with its functions.
The man considered his options. His thoughts came slowly.
He knew, somehow, what the ones before him, the ones who had died,
would have done. Yet he was no longer them. He was a new man,
born of the trek. What would this new man do?
The woman removed her clothes. She was beautiful, he understood,
yet the understanding meant nothing. Not knowing why, he wanted to
hurry, yet it seemed that his body understood only one pace. It was
enough. Still he knew not what he was going to do. This surprised
him, for he had always been quick.
No, he decided, it should be no surprise. A new man had nothing
to guide, to shape him. The decision must be reached in the fullness
of time.
The woman was naked, her assailant growling something at her.
The assailant's focus changed, weapon moved; there were others. The
others, who he could not see, did nothing. The decision was still
his to make. The woman sank to her knees to pleasure her assailant.
The man knew he would have to decide soon.
The sharp sound of his weapon startled the man, who had not
realized he had drawn it, had not felt his hand move. So, he thought,
that was the decision. He considered it a moment, as the assailant
fell over dead. A good decision, he concluded.
Takene was stunned by the turn of events and scrambled to her
feet, her eyes darting, from the man with the weapon, to her dead
assailant's weapon lying on the ground before her. Her heart was
pounding and she dismissed the notion. She wouldn't have a chance.
She was now in deep trouble.
One look at the man's flat emotionless eyes had convinced
her of that. This man was infinitely more dangerous than his
predecessor. He was a casual killer. She backed up as he advanced,
her hands trembling with a fear the other had not engendered in her.
The killer recovered the fallen weapon and her knives. He mouthed
something at her, no sound coming forth. She stared at him blankly.
His eyes turned to stone. He pointed the way the children had gone,
then pointed at the ground in front of her. Resigned, she called
the children forth once more.
The killer stood like a rock, his wide brimmed hat shading the
flat, lifeless eyes. His face, beard, clothes, everything, were
coated with a thick layer of dust. Tension sang throughout his
body.
The children appeared and the killer's weapons swung to
cover them. He motioned them to her and she took them and placed
her body between them and the killer.
Suddenly he seemed to sway, and Takene realized that the man
was exhausted. Her eyes brightened. There was still a chance.
"You look tired, my friend," her voice shook a little. "Why
don't you sit down?" She motioned to a large rock. He didn't
appear to understand - or did he? The killer took a few slow
careful steps towards the rock, and Takene's eyes went wide with
surprise.
She was obviously the children's guardian, the thought slowly
forced its way into his mind. She would need her weapons. He
carefully placed the dead man's weapon and the woman's knives down
on the rock. His own weapon was a dead weight in his hand, so he
returned it to its holster.
He looked around and spotted the pack animal. She would need
that, too, he decided, but the canteen of water would be his. He
stumbled as he walked towards the animal. He knew the woman would
be able to pick up the weapon and kill him. He wondered if she
would do that.
The thought interested him. That, too, was an acceptable
outcome. He reached the animal and took up the canteen, turning
as he did to see what the woman was doing, whether he would be
able to drink before dying.
The woman was putting her clothes back on. He raised the
canteen to his cracked lips and filled his mouth with water. He
desperately wanted to swallow, but his throat was too dry, the
pain would be too great. Slowly a trickle of water made its
way down his throat and at long last he swallowed. He followed
that with another mouthful, then replaced the top.
She would need a canteen, he decided, and left his empty one
on the animal. He turned and made his way in the direction of
the spring, wondering, once more, if she would shoot.
Another sip of water.
He was so tired, so incredibly tired. The confrontation had
taken much more out of him than he would have thought. Another
swallow. So damned tired.
He was falling. She had shot him after all. Acceptable.
As the killer walked away, Takene stared at the rock and the
weapons. Was he playing with her? Would she reach the rock only
to see him turn and fire? She decided not to take the chance and
began dressing herself.
"Damn." She cursed in a low voice. He was going to the
pack animal. They would need it. She would have to hunt him down
and retrieve it. She was just slipping back into her torn blouse
when he lifted the canteen and turned. He took a long time in
swallowing.
It was a day for surprises, she thought, as he unslung his
own canteen, hung it on the animal and started to walk off. She
stepped to the rock, motioning the children to take cover and
picked up the weapon.
The killer fell and did not move.
"Did you shoot him, Guardian?" Lere wanted to know.
"Hush, Lere. Of course not. He only fell." Takene was
busy replacing her knives in their sheaths.
"Then why isn't he getting up?"
"Hush, Lere." But Takene was wondering the same thing.
"Are we going to help him?" Iro asked.
"Help him?" Takene was astonished.
"He helped us," Iro defended her position.
Takene thought about it. Yes, he had. The only time he had
been threatening was when he had ordered the children out. As soon
as he had seen they were only children, he had relaxed, left her
her weapons and left. A possibility occurred to her.
"Yes, Iro, we will help him."
The man lay on the sweet grasses, under the shade of the tree,
breathing shallowly. It had been a struggle to heave him up on
the animal to get him here. Takene and Iro had fallen with him
when they pulled him off. Now they rested.
Takene loosened the strap and pulled off the wide-brimmed hat.
Longish sandy hair covered his head and was plastered, in places, to
his dust caked face. He reeked of stale sweat. He would have to be
cleaned up, she decided.
"Iro, help me get his clothes off. Lere, fetch water and soap.
If we're going to be with him any length of time, at least we shouldn't
have to put up with the smell," she explained to the children.
Children. It was interesting that she still thought of Iro as
such. She was a young woman now, just of marriageable age. Small
wonder that the brute had smiled when he saw her. Iro would bring
a good price in the pleasure camps as well.
Together they struggled and removed the man's pack. His shirt
followed. Iro gasped as she looked at the scarred torso. This one
had suffered much. She wondered if she had been right to want to
help him. What could such a one be capable of?
Takene looked upon the scars as a good sign. This one would
be capable, she thought. He would be worth the effort if he agreed.
If he did not, well, he had saved them so they owed him this little.
His boots were a struggle, but his pants came off easily. He
had lost much weight, most of it probably water. Iro looked curiously
at his genitals. The only male member she had seen previously had
been that of the dead man. How could a woman take such a huge
thing inside herself she wondered. This one, limp and small in
comparison, was not nearly so frightening.
Takene smiled to herself as she saw Iro's interest. Learn well,
young one, she said to herself.
"Oh, Lere, thank-you. Now keep a good look-out while we wash
the man." Takene and Iro slowly removed the dust and grime of the
trek, revealing the man beneath. He had a strong face, Takene saw,
a firm jaw under the thick beard, straight nose, good forehead. His
teeth were clean and well kept. The beard would have to be shortened.
In his pack they found nothing to identify him. Extra clothes,
dried rations, and his kit. Taking his scissors, Takene trimmed the
beard and mustache. She froze. Her heart began beating, pounding
within her chest. She recognized the face. Any from Slindaria would.
What to do? She could slit his throat here, now, yet that would
not get her to Slindaria.
Something else occurred to her. What was he doing here? How
did he get here? Such a one as he would have had no trouble getting
water - why was he in such a condition? No, slitting his throat would
not get her and her charges to Slindaria. This man could. If handled
correctly, this man could do it. If he would not, she might have
to kill him after all. Who knew what such a one would do?
The beard would have to go. She took out the razor.
The sky was darkening and the man lay on the bed of grasses.
They had placed a ground-sheet over the grasses and a light blanket
covered the man. Takene made certain her charges were safe in
their beds then returned to the man. Iro had asked what she was
doing.
"Procuring passage," was her answer. It didn't satisfy Iro,
but that didn't worry Takene. Better, perhaps, she did not know.
Takene undressed completely and crawled under the blanket with
the man. She turned him gently onto his side then snuggled back
into his chest, pulling his arm over her and resting it on her
breast. Her revulsion at being with such a one would have to be
contained. It was all part of the plan. Now to sleep.
The man shifted, moving his upper leg forward, nestling it
over her lower leg. Takene's eyes flicked open. It had been
too long since she had slept with a man, and now her legs were
open, her body still remembering the abbreviated pleasure of
the early afternoon and desiring more. She moved her hand down
to caress herself.
The breath on the back of her neck warmed her, excited her,
as her finger traced the outline of her lips, felt them engorge
with blood. Mmm. Yes, she was lubricating, feeling the heat
both within and from the body behind her. Too long, it had been
too long.
Holding his hand against her breast with one hand, the other
stroked ever so softly over the lips, until she felt the moisture.
A finger dipped inside and she stifled her moan, even as she shivered.
The man's arm tightened about her in reflex, cupping her breast,
driving her on upwards. Desperately trying, and failing, to keep her
breathing even, Takene found and stroked her clit, gasping as the
bolts of white lightning tore through her insides, making the
connection between nipples and clit, weaving all the little energies
of her body together.
Her pulse was racing, her heart hammering, and she wondered
that it did not wake him. His soft breath on her neck inflamed her
further and she knew she could not stop. Her finger circled ever
faster, her mind conscious only of the pleasure, encouraging the
spiral up to . . . her breath caught as her body tensed and held
on the edge. Pressing her fingers into her soft folds, Takene jerked
as the great release coursed through her body, alternately tensing
and relaxing it, until finally she lay quiet, totally drained.
Sleep followed, sleep with its beautiful dreams which she would
not remember upon awakening.
A QUESTION OF HONOUR
Part 2
The transition from sleep to consciousness was instantaneous.
The body and mind had been so trained. There was no pain. The
ache of misused muscles, yes; pain, no. She had not shot him
after all. He was neither surprised nor relieved. It was simply
more information.
Indeed, if his senses were to be believed, far from not
having shot him, she had taken him into her bed. The warmth
she radiated was on the high side of comfortable. He knew it
was a she, for his arm lay over her and his hand cupped a breast.
Suddenly it dawned on him - he was naked, and she as well.
The man opened his eyes. The night was upon them, yet the
great moon bathed the land with its soft light. The dark head
in front of him blocked his sight, but not his sense of smell.
There was the smell of sex in the air. This surprised him.
He had not thought himself capable of it, and there was no
memory. Had she simply used him while he slept? Interesting
thought.
He was thirsty. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he
backed away and out from under the blanket. The canteen was
there, ready at hand, as were his weapons. He was not captive,
then. He uncapped the canteen and drank deeply, feeling the
coolness of the water spread throughout his body.
A trickle of water escaped his mouth and ran down his
chin. He brushed it away with his hand . . . he had been
shaven. How long had he been here? His body had been cleaned
also. He felt himself over, and discovered that he was clean
and fresh. The smell of sex had not come from their coupling,
then. It came from her alone.
He drank again, feeling life flow back into his body. He
felt the breeze on his skin, blowing the through the little
hairs, enlivening his senses. He could not remember the last
time he had been aware of such feelings. It was as if his
body was returning to life after a long sleep. He marveled
at the intensity of the sensations. The smell of the damp grass
was heavy on the night air, the richness of the aroma almost
overpowering. It reminded him of somewhere, sometime long,
long ago. It reminded him, also, that he was hungry. After he
had run out of water, he had stopped eating. One needed water
to digest. Eating his dried rations would have robbed his body
of valuable moisture.
His pack was against a tree and he found some of those dried
rations within and began to chew on them. How many times he had
eaten of them, he knew not. He knew only that never before had
he noticed the texture, the taste, so vividly. It was good to be
alive once again - or was it?
For a time he sat and contemplated the night sky, finally
deciding that, yes, it *was* good to be alive once more. He shivered
in the cool night air then yawned. Being alive was tiring. He still
needed to catch up on his sleep, to regain his strength.
Another decision awaited him. Should he return to the woman or
should he sleep elsewhere? It was strange, this deciding. The
others moved by rote, he could not afford to do so. Care had
to be taken else he would slip back - no, that was unthinkable.
He would return, he decided. If he left her like this, she
might be insulted. In the morning he would discuss it with the
woman.
Takene had awakened when the man had left her bed. She
listened intently, without moving, trying to follow what he
was doing by the sounds he made. It was with relief that she
felt him slip in behind her once more. His skin was cool
from the night air, yet felt good against her back as he
snuggled into her once more. She enjoyed the long missed
feeling of having a man in her bed. A smile came to her lips,
then quickly faded as she remembered just who the man was, and
what she had to do.
His arm came over her again. This time, however, the
hand rested lightly on the sheet beside her. After a few
minutes she placed her hand over his, then slowly brought it
back up to cradle her breast. There was no resistance to the
move and she held it there a while, allowing him to further
relax, before taking the next step. It would be a betrayal
of the memory of her man, yet it was necessary. Her duty
was paramount, her feelings would have to be shunted aside.
The man allowed his hand to be moved up to hold her
breast once more. He wondered why she had done this, but
there were too many possibilities to do more than hazard
a guess, so he simply allowed that it had happened. He closed
his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep once more.
Something was preventing that, something called for his
attention. He had it. She was moving her bottom, moving it
minutely only, yet moving it nonetheless. Just enough that
he would realize it was being done - if he concentrated. He
almost laughed out loud. Now that he realized what was happening,
there was no way he could do anything except concentrate on it,
and it was beginning to have an effect on him.
Yes, he could feel the first stirrings in his loins, and
the more he tried to put it from his mind, the more central
became the focus. The slight rubbing was causing him to become
hard. The question was: What did he wish to do about it?
The one before would not have asked that question, therefore
he did. Another question claimed his awareness - did she realize
what she was doing and, if she did, was she doing it purposefully?
Slowly he disengaged his hand, then he turned over and faced
the other way. These were other matters to bring up with the
woman in the morning. He still remained in contact with her,
however, his bottom lightly touching hers.
Takene was both relieved and frustrated. She was relieved
that the moment had been postponed, yet frustrated that her
advance had been rejected. She knew that her motion had had the
desired effect, he had been hardening nicely, so why did he turn
away? This was unlike the man, if her information about him was
correct. Perhaps, she thought, she was moving too fast. She would
draw him out in the morning. She smiled. At least she knew he
reacted to her - and he hadn't broken contact entirely.
It occurred to her that she was tired as well. She turned
over, herself, and put her arm around him. It was good to have
a man in her bed, she thought, once again, as sleep claimed her.
When he opened his eyes, the sun was well up. It was almost
noon. The woman was preparing a meal and the two youngsters were
sitting about the small cook fire.
He looked about him and saw his clothes were laid out, ready
for him. He exited the bed and began dressing, unconcerned by
his nakedness. They had seen all there was to see when they
cleaned him, so why bother to hide anything.
The woman looked up and smiled at him. Her face may have
smiled, but her eyes were guarded. He nodded at her. It had
been so long since he had last spoken that he wondered if he
still knew how.
"Good morning," he said as he walked up to the group. It
came out roughly and he tried hard to soften the tone. "Thank
you for what you did for me." They looked at him in silence,
uncomprehending. He tried a different tack. "The food smells
good. Can I help?" Again he was met with uncomprehending silence.
"How long have I been here?" Already he was tired of talking.
The woman began to speak, but he did not understand her
language. The children obviously understood everything she was
saying, yet only the odd word was familiar to him. He recognized
her language as she, no doubt, recognized his. Unfortunately,
neither knew both.
"Takene." The woman pointed at herself. "Iro," at the young
woman who was looking at him very intently. "Lere," at the boy.
She then pointed at him and waited.
He understood these were the names of the three and that they
waited for him to give his, yet he had not yet chosen a name for
himself.
"Takene. Iro. Lere." The woman repeated, then pointed at
him once again, a questioning look on her face.
The man looked at the sky, the rocks, the grass, the spring.
Nothing came to mind. He shrugged his shoulders.
The fact that the man did not speak her language secretly
pleased Takene. Without language it would be more difficult,
perhaps impossible, for him to tell her why what she wanted of
him was impossible. The apparent fact that he could not remember
his name pleased her somewhat less. Was he trying to hide his
identity, or was he suffering from some sort of amnesia?
Again she repeated their names and awaited his response.
Again he looked around, as if lost, before finally shrugging
once more. She pursed her lips, then shrugged herself.
"Takene." She pointed at herself.
"Iro." She indicated the young woman.
"Lere." The boy became her focus, then she pointed at the
man.
"Riltan," Takene smiled at him. He looked at her a moment,
then agreed.
"Takene, Iro, Lere, Riltan." He indicated each of them in
turn, himself last.
Iro's head had come up sharply when she heard Takene, and
Takene wondered at that, then the knowledge of what she had done
was upon her, and her face flushed under Iro's gaze.
Riltan, too, had noticed Iro's reaction. There was, however,
too little information to try to reach any conclusions. He filed
away the information.
Riltan. He considered the name. He shrugged. It was a name.
Takene had taken the trouble to name him when he could not. How
did he feel about it? Acceptable. It was acceptable. He was Riltan.
Riltan accepted the food from Takene and the four sat down
to the meal. The air was fresh and sweet, with the light aroma
of the dew wetted grass lingering on. The sun warmed him,
relaxed him. How long had it been since he had truly relaxed?
The food - well, the food was food. He decided that it tasted
good and nodded his thanks to Takene. She gave him a smile in
return, then arose and left.
Iro and Lere were discussing something, but he didn't
understand the words, so he simply allowed the sound to wash
over him. Concentrating on it hurt.
"What's the matter with 'Riltan'?" Lere asked. "Being
a 'seeker' is nothing bad."
"It isn't the name, stupid, it's what she did," Iro
replied, frustrated by his ignorance.
"Well, are you going to tell me, or is it some big secret?"
Lere was annoyed. He hated being called stupid, or treated as
if he were.
"It's part of the marriage ceremony. At the end. The woman
gives her husband-to-be a name, a private name, by which he will
be known by her. If he accepts the name, he accepts the woman
as his wife." Iro tried to be patient. It wasn't that long
ago that she had been in his place. The teasing had been quite
unbearable.
"You mean they're married?" Lere asked, astounded.
"No, well, yes - no. It's confusing. It's just not done,
what the Guardian did." Iro wasn't sure just what the legalities
of the situation were, wasn't happy with it at all and wasn't sure
why. "The rest of the ceremony wasn't done, the beginning. I
don't know. Maybe they are." She became silent as Takene returned.
"What's up?" Takene asked.
"Nothing, Guardian," Lere answered. "We were wondering
when we were going to leave for Slindaria. Soon? Will Riltan
be coming with us?"
Takene smiled, not taken in at all by the lie. "No, Lere,
not soon. He is still weak. He will need some time to recover,
and even then I am not sure he will come with us. We are not
ready either. We will need to go back to the Caravan to get
more supplies." The faces of the two reflected the horror
that Takene, herself, suppressed. "It has to be done. You saw
what Riltan was like when he came out of the Wastelands. Without
first getting supplies, that will be our condition *if* we are
lucky enough to reach Slindaria at all.
"Do you think Riltan will be coming with us?" Iro asked.
"I'll do my best to convince him to," Takene replied.
"By taking him into your bed - being his woman?"
Takene was taken aback by the vehemence of her question.
Where did that come from? She looked at Iro, gauging what she
might say and what would be best to not say.
"As Guardian, it is my job to get you to Slindaria. I will
accomplish that task in any manner I see fit. If it means taking
Riltan into my bed, being his woman, as you so delicately put it,
and having sex with him every night, that is what I'll do. Is
that clear?" Iro nodded reluctantly, yet did not back down at all.
"Are you offended by that," she paused momentarily as an idea
hit her, "or is it that you wish that particular job for yourself?"
Iro flushed furiously and Takene groaned under her breath,
realizing her hunch had been correct. The gods were not being
good to her after all.
Riltan glanced from face to face as the words sharpened.
Takene was angry about something, and that something had to do with
him, for he heard his name. Iro was flushed and angry as well.
Perhaps it would be best if he left them. Lere appeared worried
and looked from one to the other, occasionally stealing a glance at
him as well.
Riltan stood and the women became silent. "I'll take a walk,"
he said, and met their blank stares. He pointed at himself then
described a broad circle taking in some of the surrounding area.
Takene nodded. Riltan went to his possessions and put on his hat
and picked up his shoulder weapon. There was no sense taking
chances.
Takene had a sudden inspiration. "Lere." The boy looked
up expectantly.
"Yes, Guardian?"
"Go with him. Watch how he moves, what he does. Learn."
"What if he doesn't want me to go?" The boy was hesitant.
"We'll deal with that if it comes up. Now hurry, he's leaving."
Lere went scampering after Riltan who stopped short and turned,
a slightly raised eyebrow marking his question. Takene hid a smile
as she heard Lere trying to explain to Riltan in a language he didn't
understand. Finally Lere simply pointed at her and shrugged. Riltan
shrugged also and allowed the boy to go with him.
"Why did you do that?" It was more than a question, it was a
demand for information. Iro was developing her independence, it
seemed. It was not good timing.
"I have my reasons, Iro."
"What are they? He's my brother, I have a right to know."
"No you do not." Takene was determined to stop this mini-revolt
in its tracks. "I am doing what is best for all of us, and you will
do as I tell you. As Guardian . . ."
"You are no longer my Guardian, Takene." Iro stood defiantly.
It was the first time she'd called Takene by name and she tried to
disguise her nervousness. "I reached the age of majority five days
ago. You have no more authority over me."
'Gods of the Skies and Trees, will nothing be easy?' Takene
wondered to herself. She brought herself into balance for there were
things that had to be done. Her anger was gone as if it never were
there.
"You are right, Sister," Iro flushed with pleasure at Takene's
acceptance of her as an equal, "yet in this time of danger you must
give way before my greater experience. Discussion of that can wait,
however - there are forms to be followed. You must be properly
welcomed into womanhood. You have no blood relations here, thus I
will be your surrogate Aunt." She spoke ritually, "Even as I sent
Lere with the man so that he might learn from his vast experience,
so must you come with me, for I have the knowledge of the woman to
impart to you."
Iro had been expecting a battle. This sudden turn left her
speechless. She looked at Takene with a new respect.
"That is not the only reason you sent Lere with Riltan, is
it?" Now it was no longer a demand. It was a question - one woman
to another.
"You are correct, Iro. It is risky, yet I sense that Riltan is
seeking - thus the name - and I hope he will bond with the boy and
thus want to protect him." She brushed back her long black hair.
"Make no mistake - Riltan is our best hope of reaching Slindaria
safely." That he also might be their greatest danger, Takene did
not share.
Lere walked behind Riltan, wondering what he was supposed to
learn. As they came out from the cover of the sparse vegetation,
Riltan stopped. Wanting to get a better look, Lere made to climb
to a vantage point but was stopped by Riltan's grasp on his
shoulder. He looked up questioningly, a little afraid, for the
grasp was rough.
Riltan frowned. How to explain it? He held up one finger,
moved his forked fore and index fingers to his eye then pointed
with them at the landscape as if they were eyes, looking over
the scene. He then held up two fingers, waited a moment, then
walked his fingers across the palm of his other hand.
Understanding came into Lere's eyes. He nodded. Riltan
considered what he had done, then nodded to himself. He repeated
the signs, this time twisting his wrist sharply when making the
sign for 'one' and for 'two'. The boy understood.
<First Look> <Second Walk> Lere repeated the signs back
to Riltan who nodded. Together they watched over the terrain
until Riltan decided it was safe to continue, then moved out
to the vantage point Lere had originally been heading for.
There was no one to be seen. They headed back into the vegetation
describing a circle around the camp. The wood opened up into
a small meadow and Lere, who had been in the lead, stopped.
He looked up at Riltan and signed.
<First look, second walk> Riltan nodded solemnly. He
brought one fist, index finger pointing, down onto the other,
repeated the gesture and nodded his head. <Right> Together
they moved out into the sun.
There was a small concavity in the earth, running like
a shallow trench backed by higher ground and Riltan sighed
and lowered himself. It made a wonderful spot to lie back
and relax, looking out over the meadow. Lere joined him and
began asking for more signs.
As Riltan taught him the signs for grass, trees, water
and other objects which they could see, he wondered why he was
doing this. He would be leaving shortly, wouldn't he? A day
or two to rest, then back on the trail again, getting as far
away from the Wastelands as he could. Why try to communicate
with the boy - with any of them, for that matter? There were
so many things he had to work out - to discover who he was,
what he was. Things better done alone. Or were they? Perhaps
these were things which could only be discovered through
interaction with others. No. It didn't matter, it was best he
leave.
Yet, deep inside, Riltan knew he would not abandon these
three - not yet. When he pondered why, the only reason he could
think of was that staying was not what the one before would have
done. For now that was answer enough, yet he could not build a
life being the antithesis of the one before.
Riltan stopped thinking, allowing himself to feel the warmth
of the sun on his closed eyes, the breeze on his cheek, the solid
support of the earth beneath him. He relaxed and breathed deeply
of the scented air. That there must be flowers about was the last
thought he remembered.
He was on his feet, weapon at the ready, eyes cold and hard
seeking out the danger. The boy shrank from him, face contorted
with shock and fear. Slowly Riltan relaxed, as it came to him
that the boy had merely shaken him to wakefulness.
<Sorry>, he signed. "Didn't mean to scare you, lad." He
knew the boy could not understand the words, yet hoped he would
understand the tone. Lere calmed down and Riltan tousled his hair.
The sun had moved a fair distance. It was becoming late. The
women would be wondering what was keeping them.
<Time go-to camp>. "Takene, Iro."
The boy nodded. "Yes. They will be waiting for us. Besides,
I'm hungry." He motioned to his stomach and then his mouth. Riltan
nodded and made the sign for hungry.
Takene's relief outweighed her anger as she saw the two
approach. She had been on the point of taking Iro and going out
looking for them when they appeared.
"Sorry, Takene," Lere apologized. "We stopped in a meadow and
Riltan fell asleep." He decided not to tell her of his reaction on
being awakened.
"It's all right, Lere. Did you enjoy your walk?"
"Yes. I learned a lot." His eyes were shining. It wasn't
everyday that a grown man gave his undivided attention to a young
boy.
"Good. Come over here, I want to talk with you for a minute."
Riltan became aware that he was the subject of covert glances
from Iro. He tried to ignore them, but was less than successful.
He squatted by the cook fire and pretended to be absorbed by the
bubbling contents of the pot. He was relieved when Takene and Lere
returned to the fire, where he was studiously stirring the stew.
Riltan looked up. Takene looked curiously at him, pursed her
lips as if deciding something important, then shrugged. She pointed
up at the sun, then held up two fingers; motioned at herself and
Iro then pointed away; pointed at him, then Lere, then at the camp.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. She was leaving Lere with him for
two days, while she and Iro went somewhere?
His interpretation was confirmed. After long consideration he
agreed. It was interesting that she trusted him that much. He would
not betray that trust, he decided.
The tea was hot and of a kind he had never tasted before. He
breathed in of the spicy aroma and sighed. Iro and Lere were bedding
down, Takene was sitting opposite him. She favoured him with a smile
then stood, stretching. He became very conscious of the lines of
her body, of her breasts pushing against her blouse, and felt the
the excitement mounting within him. He, too, felt the need to
stretch.
Then she was undressing. In the failing twilight her silhouette
was all he could make out clearly, and she turned sideways to him to
present it to its best advantage. He looked appreciatively at her
and wondered what he would do this night. They hadn't had the
opportunity - or the ability, really - to discuss the previous night.
He had one last look, as she slipped under the blanket, and
groaned softly. She waved at him, motioning him to come to bed
and he waved back. Soon.
After a few minutes he stood and stretched, then disrobed
and joined her in the bed. She was on her side, and he snuggled
into her as he had previously. The smell of her was enticing. He
breathed in deeply.
Fire and Water, she was wiggling her bottom again! Almost
immediately he felt his reaction begin and he turned away from her to
lie on his back. Above the stars blazed in all their glory. It was
beautiful. He tried to ignore the heat she was radiating, wondering,
why he did so even as he concentrated on the stars.
He had looked at the stars many times. Many, many times, yet
on this night they had a beauty he had never seen before. He realized
he was holding his breath and let it out in a long sigh. Even as he
did so, Takene turned and placed her head on his shoulder, rested on
him, hooking one leg over his own, draping an arm across his chest.
Awareness of the intoxicating warmth of her breath against his skin
had him instantly hard. He gazed upwards to the stars, in this hour
before the great moon made its entrance, and felt a tightening in his
chest, in his throat. Something was happening to him. Something
important. He studied the stars, wishing she would turn away, hoping
she would not.
Her breathing told him that she had drifted into sleep. He moved
slightly, but the arm across his chest tightened, holding him there.
Her breath on his skin, her arm about him, her warmth brought him
comfort of a kind he had never known. He would think on it tomorrow,
he decided and lay back to simply enjoy the feel of her, the stars, the
night air and the knowledge that, for the moment, there was peace.
A QUESTION OF HONOUR
Part 3
Riltan awoke in a cold sweat, sitting upright, his heart
hammering in his chest. He reached over for his canteen, noting
that his hand was trembling. 'Trembling', he thought, wryly
amused, 'shaking' was closer to the truth. He took a long pull
of water, trying to calm his mind and body.
The dreams were back - with a vengeance. The screams still
echoed through his mind as his heart rate slowly returned to
near-normal. He looked up to the sky. The great moon was
setting, the horizon lighting with the day to come. He took
a shuddering breath.
In the two nights since Takene and Iro had left, he had
been awakened by the dreams thrice. He would never be rid of
them, he feared. The last time he had awakened the boy with
his cries as he tried to escape the dream.
Riltan looked over to see Lere still sleeping - the sleep
of the innocent, he thought. His gaze wandered around the camp,
noting that everything was in its place.
The new camp location was definitely an improvement, Riltan
decided. It was more defensible, more difficult to spot and had
good access to water.
The damp night smells still hung heavy in the air. It
continued to surprise him that here, so close to the dry
wastelands, there was so much moisture in the air. Not that
he was complaining, he thought, yet it was surprising.
He shrugged into his shirt and fastened his boots. It
would be a waste of time to try to return to sleep, and there
was much to do. He began preparing breakfast for himself and
the boy. It would be a light breakfast today, and today they
must go looking for food as well. Once Takene had returned,
he would make the trip to the sacked Caravan. It was likely
that there would be emergency rations yet untouched. He would
go alone. Though it had been some time since the sack, it would
yet be a grizzly sight and the boy could do without that.
The boy. His gaze returned to Lere, sleeping quietly,
his face relaxed and soft in the early morning light. He was
a good boy, eager to learn. He had picked up signing rapidly
and had a good memory for the signs he'd learned.
His description of how they had escaped the carnage was
imaginative. They had been lucky to have been picking berries
at the time of the attack. Yes, he'd been imaginative, inventing
his own signs as he went. The telling of the tale had disturbed
Lere, however, and he'd been quiet for a time after that. Riltan
had brought him out of his thoughts with a little lesson.
Signing was easier than spoken language, Riltan thought.
There was little of the convoluted grammar to be found. It was
a language shorthand. It had the added advantage that he didn't
have to speak. In the past two days he hadn't spoken more than
a score of words. He found he liked that - not speaking.
His eyes focused again and he found the boy was looking at
him.
<Good Morning> he signed. <Good Sleep?>
<Yes> Lere replied. <Food Soon?>
<Soon>
Lere smiled at him and arose. He headed for the temporary
latrine which Riltan had constructed.
Breakfast finished, they cleaned up. Riltan replaced his
tooth-brush in its holder and turned to Lere.
<Women return today. Not-know camp move. We go - wait.>
Lere nodded. He ran through his vocabulary, questioning a
few signs. He smiled as Riltan nodded solemnly, recognizing his
effort. What pleased him most, was that now he knew something
which Iro didn't. It would sure surprise her.
Together the man and the boy slipped out of the new camp and
headed for the old one, the man wary and cautious, the boy struggling
to contain his exuberance. Behind them, on its lead, came the
pack animal.
Riltan was amazed by the boy's resilience. Perhaps it was
that he simply didn't realize the seriousness of the situation he
was in. It was all still an adventure, with safety no further away
than his Guardian - or Riltan, himself.
Riltan stopped short, causing the boy to look at him
questioningly. He shrugged and stepped out again. He would have
to watch himself, he thought. He would be leaving soon. It would
not do to have the boy become dependent upon him. That thought
suppressed the flip side - it would not do for him to grow close
to the boy.
Takene and Iro emerged from the brush and Lere moved forward
to meet them. He was stopped short by Riltan's hand on his shoulder.
<What?> His eyebrows went up in the question sign.
<Wait. Look.>
Lere obeyed. He watched Takene and Iro come to a halt as they
noticed that the camp was no longer where it had been. Riltan
tapped him on the shoulder.
<Not look-at women. Look beyond.>
Lere had not yet seen the sign for 'beyond', yet he got the idea
and understanding lit his face. He nodded. They were watching to
see if anyone was following the women before they made their presence
known. That is why they waited here instead of at the abandoned
campsite. Here one could see more, better.
When Takene and Iro had covered most of the distance to the
old campsite, Riltan motioned Lere to move forward a bit and wave.
He did so, realizing that his position would allow only Takene and
Iro to see him. He looked back at Riltan with respect and nodded.
Takene spotted Lere when he waved and relief washed over her.
She stopped short, causing Iro to bump into her. She gave a small
signal with her hand to say she saw him.
"What is it, Takene?" Iro was worried, Lere and Riltan should
have been there waiting for them. What had happened?
"Look at the campsite," Takene cautioned. "Lere just waved
off to the left. Don't look at him. They are watching our backs
for us."
"Why did they move the camp?" Iro wanted to know, as they
started forward again.
"I don't know. It was Riltan's doing, of course. He knows
these things - maybe he found a better site, maybe someone else
found this one and they had to move." Takene kept walking
without looking at Lere again. She loosened her weapon in
its holster. "We'll circle round to meet them."
"Is there trouble, Lere?" Takene asked, the moment they came
together.
"No, Guardian. We were being careful."
At those words the tension began to drain out of Takene. She had
not noticed it until it loosed its grip on her. "Good. And you
moved the camp to a better location?"
"Riltan thought this place was too open, Guardian." Lere
was struggling to understand the discrepancy between Takene's calm
voice and tense body language.
Takene turned to Riltan, who stood calmly by, watching everything
understanding more from the way she moved than from any words she
could say.
"And how are you, friend Riltan?" she asked.
<Fine> Riltan signed automatically, understanding the expression,
forgetting that Takene didn't know sign.
Takene's eyebrows lifted. <You sign?>
<Yes>
<Problems?>
<None. Move camp after you left. Better area now. Wait here
for you. Teach boy.> Riltan signed slowly.
<Thank-you, my friend>
Riltan looked curiously at that last sign, then accepted it with
a nod. Friend, he thought. A long time since that term had been
directed at him or who he had been. And what did he know about being
a friend, he wondered He would make it up as he went along, the
decision came to him. He nodded, slowly, ritually, at Takene and
signed, <Friend>
<Good> she signed back. His whole attitude seemed to confirm
her supposition that Riltan was seeking - more than that, reinventing
his existence. <What now? We go-to camp now?>
Riltan noted that her signs, though understandable, had subtle
differences. Apparently the two sign languages had close ties to
each other. Interesting, that. It was a relief, however. This
would make life much easier for all concerned.
Turning to look at the surroundings as he digested this new
relationship he surprised Iro, who was looking at him in a most
disconcerting manner. She flushed and turned quickly. What had
that been about?
<No. I not go-to camp. Go-to caravan. Boy take you to
camp. I return nightfall. Need food>
<No> Takene returned. <We-all go. Carry more, fewer trips.
More safe>
Riltan was forced to agree. He nodded and started off without
further discussion.
"Come on, Lere, Iro, we're going to the caravan for supplies."
Takene started the two off and brought up the rear.
The new turn of events had Takene thinking as well. Things
would be easier now. Riltan was not fluent in sign, yet knew enough
to make communication possible. She, too, was surprised at how
close the two languages were to each other, yet something about
Riltan's signing seemed very stilted, as if he could not convey
nuances. It was like someone using a dictionary to speak a foreign
tongue. As yet she couldn't figure exactly what had, or hadn't,
caught her attention. It didn't matter. In time she would.
It was not as gruesome at the sacked Caravan as Takene believed
it would be. Carrion eaters had savaged the bodies pretty thoroughly
and the stench of death, for the most part, was gone. Nevertheless
she and Riltan had left Iro and Lere in a safe place, watching over
them as they hunted for goods not taken.
The raiders had creamed the caravan, leaving behind the bulkier,
the heavier, and the more mundane items. That included a fair bit of
food - the emergency rations included.
Takene and Riltan worked quickly, wanting to spend as little
time as possible at the ambush site. They put together a pile of
goods which would be valuable to them, including as much food as
they could salvage.
In several trips they moved their salvage to a hidden location.
From there they would take what they could carry back to camp, returning
if necessary.
Takene looked grimly at the wracks of the bodies of those she
had known, however slightly. Riltan, she noted, seemed unmoved.
As they moved the last of the goods away from the caravan she
shook her head sadly.
<Sorry not time bury bodies>
Riltan seemed surprised. His eyebrows lifted a fraction.
<Why want?>
Takene was at a loss. How could she answer such a question?
Riltan continued. <Better. No grave, no monument. No one
say 'Here lie hero, villain, coward.' No one know. No one
care. Better. Food for birds. Birds also must eat. Better> He
nodded. "Yeah. When I go, I hope it is like this. No memories
left behind. Anyone passing will only think, 'someone died here.'"
He did not care that Takene could not understand him, did not
care that she looked at him curiously. Perhaps she was wondering
at his signs, or perhaps she caught his tone of voice, or perhaps
she understood his language. Whatever the case, she reached over
and touched him lightly on the shoulder. He straightened up.
"Yeah. Let's finish up." He found the sound of his own
voice strange and fell back into silence.
The silence lasted as he loaded up the pack animal, as they
filled and struggled into their own packs. They looked carefully
around, making sure they had forgotten nothing and that the goods
left behind were well hidden, then set off for the new camp.
The long slog back to camp was uneventful and passed in
the silence in which it had begun. As they unloaded, Takene
noticed the four beds which had been prepared and frowned a little.
Iro noted the same thing and a small smile played at her lips,
hastily covered when Takene turned towards her.
"It's been a long day. Get some water and we'll make supper."
"As you wish, Takene."
Lere's head came up. He had never heard his sister address
Takene as anything other than 'Guardian'. Takene saw his
consternation and smiled at him.
"Your sister has become a woman, Lere, and as such I am no
longer her Guardian."
"You took here through the 'rites'?" Lere questioned. He
had heard of the 'rites', yet, like most young boys, did not
know what they entailed - except for . . . . "But, what about
her . . . " his voice faded away at Takene's sharp glance, and
he looked over to Riltan. Riltan was paying them no attention,
simply standing and looking out over the landscape.
"We will not mention that, nor will we discuss it further.
Do you understand?"
"Yes, Guardian."
"Now, how were your two days with our new friend?"
"The days were good. He started teaching me sign and some
other stuff." Lere hesitated.
"But?" questioned Takene.
"The nights, Guardian . . ." He didn't know how to explain
something that he felt was personal to his new friend.
Takene became alert. "What about the nights, Lere?" It was
an order he couldn't refuse.
"He has bad dreams. Very bad ones."
Takene relaxed. "How bad, Lere?"
"He woke up screaming a couple of times. Other times he didn't
wake up, but I did. He was thrashing around - I didn't know whether
or not to try and wake him up. It scared me. I'm glad you are back."
Lere was relieved to get this off his chest. "Why does he have such
bad dreams, Guardian?"
Takene shrugged. "Sometimes we see things or do things that
bother us so much that they surface in our dreams. Maybe Riltan has
seen some bad things, or something bad happened to him." Or did
some very terrible things, Takene thought but did not say. Lere
looked content with the explanation and she let it drop.
In the third hour after moonrise the moans from Riltan's bed
became too much for Takene. She arose and approached the dreaming
man. His back was turned to her and she reached down and shook him
gently by the shoulder.
Riltan's response was as instantaneous as it was violent. He
grabbed her wrist and pulled her over him, coming to his knees as
she toppled. His eyes were wild in the bright moonlight and his
fist was drawn back to deliver a death-blow to her throat. It had
happened so suddenly, and Takene was so unprepared, that she knew she
was dead.
Riltan hesitated and Takene saw sanity slowly coming to his eyes.
He drew a long shuddering breath as his fist relaxed and he sat back
on his heels. He blinked a couple of times, then the enormity of
what he had almost done was upon him.
His eyes widened for a moment then he grimaced as he sank back
within himself. In a flash Takene realized what had seemed so
stilted about his signing: He didn't use his face.
It seemed an incongruous thought following, as it did, her
near escape from death, yet it burned brightly in her, signaling
its importance. In sign language, the facial expressions carried
a lot of the nuances which tone of voice carried in spoken conversation.
Riltan had been like a man speaking in monotone. His face was like
a mirror of what he was inside - empty. Empty by choice, she intuited,
attempting to refill the shell carefully.
A sudden compassion filled her and she reached for him as she
sat up. Riltan, however, shrank back and sat on his bed.
<Go-to bed. Please. Leave alone> he signed. There was a look
of anguish on his face. It was, Takene thought, the first real
expression she had seen him make. She wasn't sure, however, whether
that was a good sign or not. She thought it was.
Takene returned to her bed but could not fall to sleep. The
thought of what she must do weighed heavily upon her. That he was
no longer what he had been was clear. But did that matter? The
things he had done! Yes, it did matter. She no longer found within
her the revulsion at what she planned. She rested. It was, perhaps,
an hour later when Riltan began to moan once more. Shrugging off
her indecision she arose once more and approached him.
This time, however, she did not touch him, instead calling out
his name softly until he jerked to wakefulness. He looked up
guiltily, knowing he'd awakened her once again.
<Go-to bed. Leave me, please> his eyes pleaded with her, then
widened slightly as she shook her head no.
Takene, instead, crawled into his bed and snuggled into him.
Tentatively he reached an arm over her. She intertwined her fingers
with his and brought his hand up to her breast, where she let it rest.
His arm contracted, bringing her tight against him, before relaxing.
A few minutes later his breathing betrayed to her that he was sleeping
quietly. There would be no more dreams this night, she knew, yet
knew not how she knew. Slowly, sleep overcame her as well.
In the morning Takene moved her bed to join Riltan's, missing,
as she did this, the look of anger directed towards her by Iro.
Had she seen, it would have made no difference. What she had to
do, Iro would not understand. Not yet. Much later, perhaps, when
she had gained the responsibility which must come to her, should
she survive. Just yet she was a woman in name only.
It was only with experience that the mantle of womanhood
would rest easy on her shoulders - yet, for her very survival,
that experience would have to be delayed. Takene was not happy
with that, yet her duty demanded no less.
Riltan sat quietly, his back to a tree trunk, watching
her move the bed. He did not move to help, nor to hinder, her
in her task. She understood that he was letting her make her
own decision in the matter. It was a curious sort of honour which
led him to that path, she thought, something which she would not
have expected of the one whose reputation had long preceded him.
The sharp bark of a bitter laugh escaped her, attracting
his attention. She bowed her head so he could not read her
expression. This one, this seeker, she preferred, yet it was
the other one she would need - the killer - or perhaps some
combination of the two. Finishing the move, she straightened
and sauntered over to where Riltan was sitting.
<You-me, walk> she signed, nodding her head in the direction
she wished to take.
Riltan looked at her impassively.
<Need talk> she waited for him to move.
Riltan shrugged and clambered to his feet. <Not talk here?>
<No. Come> Takene set off and Riltan, after pausing a moment,
picked up his hat and followed.
The green leaves of the trees almost sparkled in the bright
sun as the soft breeze tossed them lightly about. Takene led the
way past the meadow toward the small pool which lay beyond.
At the pool, backs to a pair of young trees, they sat side by
side, turned slightly towards each other. Takene breathed deeply,
smiled and let the air out with a sigh. It was beautiful there.
Riltan nodded and took a deep breath himself.
<Dream bad?> asked Takene.
Riltan pondered his answer for a moment before answering.
Finally he confirmed, <Bad> He knew that it was common knowledge
around the camp - how could it be otherwise, with him shouting
his way to wakefulness.
<You-me, friend?> It was more a statement than a question,
and Riltan nodded. <Good> Takene's expression was intense.
<Friend help friend> she explained. She believed she could, yet
felt a certain distaste for her motives.
Riltan appeared slightly surprised and bemused. <How?>
<Hold you me> she replied and almost laughed as his brow
furrowed. <Touch strong. You relax> Takene rose and moved
behind him before sitting once more. Her back was against the
tree, her legs open, knees bent, and she pulled him back against
her, his head resting on her shoulder and her chin resting lightly
on his.
How many times had she held her man thus, or he her, in times
of pain? How often had the mere presence of the other lent strength
to the two, allowing them to go on when movement had no longer seemed
possible?
This was not her man, but he was a man, nonetheless. And he
needed her. She would have need of him later. It would be good
having him owing her. She grimaced at that thought. That was not
what she really wanted, she knew. It was, however, a necessity.
Riltan felt her breath against his throat, felt the
rhythm of her chest as it rose and fell. It was comforting and
both relaxing and exciting at the same time. If he concentrated
he could feel the beating of her heart in her chest.
She allowed them to remain thus for some time. Finally
she lifted her head from his shoulder. It would be interesting
to try and sign from behind, with her arms around him.
<Remember dream> she signed, gave him a few seconds then
began nuzzling his neck. When he moved his head to give her
more room she stopped and gave his face a light slap. <No.
Remember dream> she ordered. She then began to nuzzle his neck
from the opposite side. He have a low groan and moved his head
again. Slap.
<Remember dream>
<Can't>
<Good>
Riltan turned his head, put his arm back and drew her head
to his. He gave her a light kiss. Progress, she thought. She
stood and moved around to face him.
She pointed at him. "Riltan."
She pointed at a point a few feet away. <Dream>
She moved to a point between the two. "Takene. <Here Always>
Takene <Between dream and> Riltan <Always>"
Riltan wasn't sure he believed this, although he was sure
that Takene did. It wasn't really important. What was important
was that she was that she was doing this for him. It was something
he would not forget. No, this would make a good memory, something
he would want to remember. It would be the first good memory,
something to treasure. How could he thank her? He slowly
pushed himself to his feet and walked to her. He looked down at
the serious expression on her face.
"Okay. Just you between me and the fire and the flood." She
looked up at him, questioningly. He shrugged. How could he
explain? He put his arms around her and gave her a light hug.
She responded with a tight grip and he tightened his to match.
After a minute he relaxed a little to see if she would follow his
lead. She merely hugged him all the tighter and he replied in
kind. It was a long time before she finally released him. At the
end he became all too aware of the heat of her.
<Return to camp> Takene signed regretfully and he nodded his
agreement. He started off, then stopped as she held out her hand.
He looked at it for a long time, then took it in his own and
together, hand in hand, they made their way back.
A QUESTION OF HONOUR
Chapter 4
Lere had found some of the Quella which Riltan had identified
for him. Quella, that leafy vegetable with its thick, edible root
which lent a piquant taste to their meals, was a welcome addition
to their food supply. He proudly showed the small group his triumph.
Riltan smiled at the happy face amid the armful of vegetation.
Lere, with his hair windblown and wild, looked like he belonged
with the Quella. It was getting close to time for a haircut.
"Take a look at our 'Seeker', Takene," Iro said softly.
Takene glanced over. "What is it?"
"It's the first time I've seen him smile. It makes him a little
less scary." Iro liked the smile.
Takene looked again. Iro was right. She, also, had never seen
Riltan smile. It was a measure of her success, she thought, feeling
both proud of her accomplishment and guilty because of the reason for
it.
For first two nights after their little talk, Takene had taken
great care to remain alert with Riltan while he was sleeping. She
slept lightly and at the merest sign of a bad dream, she would awaken
and begin talking softly to him, stroking him, interposing herself, as
it were, between the dream and Riltan. It didn't matter that he
wouldn't understand what she was saying, her tone would tell his
sleeping mind all that it needed to know.
In the two days since, Riltan had evinced a change from one
who was waiting, expectant, tight, to one who was able to relax.
Not to totally relax, but to relax a little. From the time they
had met he had always been able to sit quietly, unmoving, yet had
never seemed to relax. Now it was different and Takene felt that
she could take a great deal of credit for the change.
"He scares you?" Takene recalled Iro's words and wondered
at them.
"I said it makes him less scary, and that's not the same
thing." Iro defended herself. "I've never been scared of him,
except maybe that first day, for a minute or two. I think he's
kind of cute."
Takene choked. "Cute?" She looked again to Riltan whose
face was no longer smiling, yet which held the essence of good
humour. He had strong features; one might call him handsome in
a rugged sort of way, but cute?
"Yes. And I think it's about time." Iro's look sharpened,
wondering how Takene would respond. It wasn't her fault that
Riltan didn't find Takene attractive enough to take for his own.
Iro understood. Takene was getting old. If Takene would give her
her chance, as she was supposed to, Iro was sure that Riltan
would come to her gladly.
"You do, do you? Well, I don't. And as your . . ."
"As my surrogate aunt you are supposed to provide me with
a man to instruct me in the arts of lovemaking . . ."
"Someone suitable." Neither woman was allowing the other
to complete an argument.
"There is no one else, Takene - unless you have some other
man stashed away . . ."
"Riltan is not suitable, Iro." Takene was frustrated. She
knew her duty well enough, but to fulfill it could bring unknown
hazards down upon them.
"Well I think he is," Iro replied loftily. "And I think
he's sweet. He'll do just fine. If it is too much for you to
arrange, all you have to do is step aside. I'll do the rest."
"Sweet?" The girl must be fantasizing about him. Sweet?
This was getting out of hand. "So, you think he's a cute,
sweet man. I don't know how you came to that conclusion, but
I'll accept it as the way you see him. Just do one thing for
me, Iro," Takene paused.
"What's that?" Was Takene finally going to relent?
"It's about time to wash some clothes. You and I will
do that. I want you to take a good look at Riltan's body
and then tell me again how cute and sweet he is.
"Riltan," she called. His head swung around to look
at them. <Give-me shirt> His eyebrows went up. <Wash.
Smell> she made a face.
Riltan took a quick sniff at his shirt and looked
quizzically at Takene. Then he shrugged and with a bemused
look pulled it off and handed it to her as she and Iro came
near. The sun was warm on his skin and with a contented
sigh he lay back and closed his eyes. A few moments later,
sensing something, his eyes flicked open again.
Iro stood above him, looking in fascination at his
torso. He looked down at himself and became aware of the
scars. Becoming aware of the scars, he became aware, also,
of how they had come about and his face clouded over. They
were not happy memories - did not, in fact, belong to him,
but to the other, the one before him.
Slightly irritated, he arose and dug his other shirt
out of his pack and put it on. When he turned again, Iro
had gone. He sighed once again, then moved to help Lere
clean and prepare the Quella.
"Why did you do that?" Iro hissed at Takene. "Was it
really necessary?"
"Yes. You want to be treated like a woman, are a woman,
so yes, it was necessary. I find it hard not to try to protect
you, I've been Guardian too long for that, yet there are things
you should know. That was one of them.
"Our 'cute, sweet' Riltan is the most dangerous man you
have ever seen. He didn't just come by those scars. He earned
them, every one. And it's my bet that none who gave him any
of those scars is alive anymore."
"You just want him for yourself," Iro pouted, then her
eyes widened in pain as Takene gripped her arm with such force
that she gasped.
"Listen, and listen carefully." Takene was angry and
Iro tried to shrink from her. "You remember the man who was
going to rape me?"
With Takene's eyes boring into hers from such close range
Iro was forced to recall. "Yes, Takene." She had nearly
called Takene 'Guardian', she was so cowed.
"Well, he was a dead man before Riltan ever showed up."
Takene released her hold on Iro. It was time the young woman
learned something of life. "He was dangerous in his own way,
but I was never worried about him. I wasn't afraid. He was
a dead man."
"What do you mean?"
"Simply that I was going to kill him." She smiled at
Iro's wide eyed expression. It was not a pleasant smile.
"Sure, he might have raped me first - I was ready for that -
but he would not have lived out the day. He was not a
problem." Takene could see that, shocked though Iro was,
she believed her. "Not a problem, at all," she repeated.
"But our friend Riltan," she took a deep breath, "he's
a different proposition altogether. When I saw him I was
frightened. I wouldn't have stood a chance against him,
not even though he was dead on his feet.
"Now, it is a different story. He trusts me - a little.
I've worked hard to gain his trust. I've been careful to go
at his pace. I haven't pushed him at all. Do you know why,
Iro?" Her voice was like a whiplash.
"Why?" Iro was forced to ask the question which she didn't
want the answer to.
Takene composed herself. Her voice became calm and considered,
and that much more frightening because of it. Iro realized that
she had never truly known her Guardian.
"Because, should it come to it, it might - it just might -
slow him down that fraction which will allow me to kill him.
Because, due to all that work, due to the trust I've gained, I
might have the slimmest chance. Understand me, Iro, just the
slimmest chance, no more. He is dangerous, Iro, he is a killer."
Iro plucked up her courage. "Not to us, not anymore."
Takene relaxed and smiled a tired smile as she put the
dirty clothes into the wash bucket. "Perhaps not, Iro, perhaps
not. He has changed, I agree, yet he could change back again.
If that happens, we will need every break we can get. If you and
I fight over him, he will be on guard, our chances will be
diminished."
Iro was more impressed with Takene than she wanted to let
on. Her argument was powerful enough to convince her that there
should be no fight between them. "Then let's not fight. Let me
have him, or at least share him. It's my right to . . ."
"He's not suitable, Iro." Takene was weary.
"How can you . . . ." Suddenly Iro understood. "You know
who he is, don't you?"
Takene smiled, "Let's give him the benefit of the doubt.
I know who he was."
"Who?" Iro's curiosity overcame her reluctance to know.
"Trust me when I tell you that it is better that you don't
know. I'm sorry, Iro, I truly am. If it were different, I
would have no qualms about you having 'my man' as your first."
She scrubbed at Riltan's shirt. "I had a man for some years
before he was taken from me. He made me very happy. I want
that for you, too. I would do nothing to take that away from
you. You deserve to be brought into the full flower of womanhood
by the best. I love you, Iro, like I would my own daughter. If
my man were here, now, we would not be having this discussion."
There were tears in her eyes, though she could not understand why.
She could see Iro's eyes misting over as well.
Then the tears were flowing and they were in each other's
arms. The recognition of the empty spot within was a pain that
wouldn't be denied. They held each other a long time before
finally breaking apart.
Takene wiped at her face and gave a half laugh. "Come on
and let's finish the laundry. They boys will be wondering
what's keeping us."
Riltan had been going out more and more often to look over
the approaches to the camp. He appeared on edge and Takene
finally faced him with it.
<Your people come when?> he asked her.
Takene frowned. <My people? Come-here why?> Was that what
he was worried about?
<Look for caravan. See what happen then>
Ah, so that was it. <My people not come-here> she told a
disbelieving Riltan. She smiled at his doubt. <My people know
what happen then. Four, maybe six, my people escape. Looking
ahead - in vehicle. They far side caravan. I see. Can't meet,
join them. Can't catch. They tell - no one come> She smiled
ruefully, <no one look, think we-all dead>
<Not come - see? Why?> Riltan was confused.
<War. Caravan leave> "Trianne". "Trianne - Slindaria" <war
now. No one come. No one look>
Riltan slowly nodded his head. Soldiers wouldn't be coming
this way, either. Fighting would take place, if it took place,
much farther north. Here in the south either side would have
to make its approach through neutral territory and neither would
wish to bring H'Las into the war against them.
<Why stay here?> Riltan wanted to know.
Takene tried her best to look lost and inquired, <Where go?>
Riltan nodded slowly and wandered off, lost in thought.
Where, indeed? He stopped suddenly. Why did he feel like a
weight had been lifted from him? He looked back through his
thoughts and discovered that the surge in his spirits had
begun when Takene had told him that no one would come looking.
Why should that please him?
He started moving again, but was stopped by the shock of
his thoughts. He wanted her to remain with him! He had become
comfortable with her, with them. They were family - his family!
The only place he belonged was with them.
Riltan moved out slowly, considering this new data, wondering
how the situation had come about. He accepted it, for there was
no use in denying what was so evident - so evident that it had
surrounded him without his becoming aware of it. He shook his
head wonderingly.
Not that he should be surprised, really. The new man had a
new life and these people - his family - had been in it from the
start, from the time he crossed the dry creek bed. It was right
that he was with them. He stopped and turned to look back.
From his position he could see all three and from within
there was a sudden welling up of an emotion he couldn't identify.
It suffused his entire being and brought tears to his eyes, catching
him totally by surprise. As the tears rolled down his cheeks
unhindered, the one inside was astonished at the body's reaction.
What was this? What was happening?
He must have stumbled, for the next thing he knew he was
seated on the ground and Takene was making her way, purposefully,
towards him. He didn't move. He simply waited.
Takene had watched Riltan as he left her, curious about his
strange gait. He walked as though he were in a daze, stopping a
couple of times, then turning to watch the camp. She pretended to
be concentrating on fixing the evening meal while covertly looking
at him.
Takene's eyebrows shot up as Riltan suddenly seemed to stagger
then dropped to a sitting position. It had not been a controlled
sit. Could he be sick? She hoped not. If he caught sick it could
set them back days, or even weeks. This was not good. She pushed
to her feet and strode towards him, worry creasing her features.
<Something wrong?> she asked as she neared him.
<No. Something right> he replied, to her amazement.
<Why cry?> she wondered.
<Don't know> he signed simply.
Takene nodded, as if this were the most natural thing in the
world. Riltan sat, feet apart with knees bent outwards, grasping his
ankles with his hands. He looked down.
It came to Takene that this might be the break she was looking
for and she plopped herself down between his legs, and leaned back,
pressing against his chest. Riltan closed his arms around her and
simply held her. A long time passed before either of them made
another move.
Finally they both stood and made their way back to the camp,
where Iro had busied herself with completing the meal. She was
both pleased at Takene's apparent progress and annoyed that it
was not her who had been there for Riltan. She had backed off,
honouring Takene's request, but she hadn't liked it, nor was
she sure how long she would stay away. She still felt that
Riltan was hers by right.
During the meal Riltan was continually looking around him,
then back to his companions around the cook fire. He was obviously
deep in thought and no one disturbed him.
They would have to leave eventually, he thought, though this
would be a nice place to set up a home. He looked around him.
Yes, it would be a good place, but the children needed people
around them, some sort of schooling - for Lere, at least - and
some young men for Iro. No, as nice as it would be to stay,
staying was not an option.
Where, then, to go? Slindaria was out of the question. Even
if they managed to survive the trek back through the wastelands
it would still be death for him. No one in Slindaria would know,
would care, that he was no longer the one whose name was best
forgotten. They would not forget and sooner or later, most likely
sooner, he would be discovered and discovery would mean death. He
wouldn't even allow himself to think what returning to the
Wastelands would mean to him.
Trianne was also a poor choice. What with the war with
Slindaria, Takene's presence would not be appreciated. That
he had originally come from Trianne would help little - his
long absence would be questioned and those questions he would
not wish to answer.
H'Las would probably be their best bet. It was neutral
and had a reputation for welcoming immigrants. Yes, that
would do fine for all of them. H'Las had been where he'd been
headed anyway. It would make them a . . .
Riltan's speculations came to a crashing halt as something
he had not considered cut across his line of thought. What if
Takene and the others did not wish to come with him? He looked
casually at Takene, beside him, not wanting to communicate
his fear. She smiled at him.
Such beauty in her smile. It almost caused him physical
pain. What right had he to such beauty? Foolish thinking,
that. He had the same right as any man. And he could be good
for them, too - at least he hoped so. He returned her smile.
It had been a long day and soon both Lere and Iro were in
their beds. The sun had disappeared and the twilight was
fading into the night as Riltan made sure that everything was
in it's place. Satisfied, he then sat by the fire, across from
Takene who was holding her hands up to it's warmth.
Takene's eyes appeared to gleam, reflecting the flames
of the fire. In the flickering light, with shadows flitting
across her, her face held a mystery, a beauty, which Riltan
found exhilarating.
His head was cocked to one side and he gazed upon her,
his own face softened by the joy with which he watched her.
Her eyes met his and she smiled warmly at him. His pulse
quickened.
He *was* rather handsome, Takene thought, as she smiled
at him across the fire, and his face was softer now than she
had ever seen it. Not cute, but definitely handsome, she
decided.
Her gaze locked with his and they stared into each other's
eyes, became lost in the gaze. There was a pop from the fire
and the spell was broken. Even so, Takene noted that little
tensions were floating throughout her body. Her stomach, in
particular, was tight. She had the sudden urge to stretch and
obeyed the urge. It amused her to see Riltan mirroring her
action across the fire.
One of them would have to make a first move, she thought,
and pushed herself to her feet. She grinned as Riltan's face
betrayed a disappointment which vanished as she simply moved
around the fire to sit beside him - she wasn't letting him
get away so easily this time, and it seemed that he didn't
wish to get away. It was a promising beginning.
Riltan's relief was great as he realized that Takene was
not leaving the fireside. He moved over slightly, giving her
room to sit on the short log which he was using as a seat.
She placed her hand on his thigh to steady herself as she sat
and he felt the heat from her palm through his pants, heat
which traveled up his leg to warm him throughout.
Riltan tentatively placed his hand over hers, feeling his
stomach jump as he did so. Strange that this should be so
difficult and then again not strange at all. It was all new
to him, not the actions, the emotions. Never before had
he, or his predecessors, felt about another person as he now
felt about Takene. Never before had the need been so great
for his feelings to be accepted and returned. Never before
was the fear so great that they would not be, that any move
he might make would result in the rebuff which would shatter
a dream.
His hand became trapped as Takene covered it with her
other hand, warmed it, held it fast. He bent forward
slightly and added his free hand to the stack. His eyes
moved slowly from their intertwined hands to her face, finding
her eyes already watching his. Was the dream becoming a
reality?
So tentative, she thought, wonderingly. Surely he knew
his advances would not be rejected, that she had long been
pursuing a course leading to this moment. Why else had she
made his bed her own; why else had she held him night after
night, if not for just this purpose? Surely he must know
that . . . .
His eyes found and held hers and her breath caught.
Suddenly she knew and her eyes widened. The look she saw
in Riltan's eyes she had seen in no eyes since her man had
died. For a moment she could not breathe.
Could it be? Had she been that much more successful than
she would have believed possible? She had been trying to lure
him with her body, to bind him with her body, with sex. Instead,
it appeared, he had bound himself, had fallen in love with her.
All that remained was to complete the seduction - he would be hers.
The victory did not bring to her the elation which only
minutes ago it would have. Instead it brought a sorrow, as she
contemplated the turning of another's love into a weapon which
would betray he who loved. She swallowed. It was a hard thing
she did, yet her duty was clear. She smiled into his eyes.
Riltan noted the moment of hesitation, before Takene leaned
her head in to his, saw it disappear and rejoiced - Takene had
made her decision and it was for him. Their foreheads touched
and Riltan felt the joy bubble up through him. She had chosen
him - a conscious decision, not a drifting into a companionship,
into a situation which she had not thought out, but a conscious
decision.
That meant more to the man whose life now consisted of
conscious decisions than he would ever be able to explain.
She had chosen him!
Takene felt Riltan stroke her, gently running his hand
over her head and down her loose hair, over and over. He cupped
her face in his hand and she allowed her head to lean into his
palm. She would have to show him how much she enjoyed this, she
thought, and let out a sigh as she slowly closed her eyes.
It was her duty, she thought, yet a part of her could not
deny the enjoyment of his simple touch, a touch which had for
so long, now, been missing from her life. His other hand slipped
out from under hers and then he was gently holding her face between
his hands. She opened her eyes to find his, mere centimeters away,
gazing at her with such an expression that her breath caught again.
Playfully he moved forward and rubbed her nose with his own,
causing her to smile. Her smile engendered one of his own, and
then he was kissing her, oh so gently, on the corner of her mouth.
His lips wandered slowly along her cheek to her ear and then down
to her neck where he nuzzled her lightly.
The hum of contentment, which began as artifice, became
genuine. Takene could feel the warm breath at her throat,
exciting her, comforting her. Thoughts of her man were put
aside, gently and with care. She had been true to his memory
for these past two years - it was time to allow herself to
enjoy the pleasures of the body, to be with a man again,
even if it was this man.
Takene's hand was at the back of his head, fingers in his
hair, pulling him gently in as he nuzzled her neck. It added
to his joy to feel her beginning to respond, to engage in
their loveplay.
His hand was caressing her hair, gliding down her back,
causing little tremors to run through her. She noticed that
his breathing was becoming a little ragged and grinned as she
noted the same about her own. She opened her eyes, then gasped.
Alerted by her gasp and the light pressure of her hand on
his cheek, Riltan turned his head to see what had captured her
attention. The great moon, full and in all its glory, was rising
above the horizon, a great pale yellow globe.
There was majesty there, in the moon, and somehow they both
felt that it had risen to give witness to them. Both were held
by its beauty for a long moment, then as one they turned back to
each other and came together in a kiss.
He was trembling and didn't know why. He knew only that
she, too, had noticed this and looked at him wonderingly. Then
she was on her feet, drawing him with her, back to their bed.
She pulled his shirt over his head and off, allowed her fingers
to enjoy the feel of his bare skin, stroking his back as he held
her close, then turned to allow him to remove her blouse.
He did so slowly, touching and kissing her shoulders and back
as the blouse was slowly lowered and removed. He turned her to
face him, and they came together in a hug, both enjoying the feel
of skin upon skin.
As if of one mind, they suddenly separated. There was no
more lingering. They both stripped quickly, eager to be naked
in the sight of one another. In his haste to doff his pants,
Riltan fell back onto the bed, causing them both to laugh
quietly.
From his position on his rear Riltan looked up to see
Takene silhouetted by the moon. The beauty of her form took his
breath away. Then she was on top of him, pushing him back, down,
until he was lying flat on his back with her above him. His hands
reached up to stroke her breasts, paying attention to the undersides
and upper slopes as well as the nipples. She shuddered and his
heart leaped inside him.
Takene became aware of the coolness of the air and they took
a moment to scoot beneath the blankets. She still straddled him,
but now had the blanket around her shoulders, creating a tent,
beneath which their hands were active.
He was hard and she was ready so she raised herself and
positioned him at her lips. For a long moment they remained
poised thus, looking into each other's eyes. Then Takene slowly
lowered herself, giving forth with a gasp of pleasure. It had
been a long time, indeed.
Riltan felt himself slip inside the warm wetness of Takene
and felt his entire body thrill at the sensation. He caressed
her sides and arms until she became used to him in her and began
moving. Then he began rocking his hips gently. There was no
hurry, ecstasy could wait.
It was good, so good, being filled by a man once more, yet
Takene couldn't enjoy it to the extent she would have wished.
Thoughts of her purpose distracted her; memories of the stories
told about the man she had mounted broke through and worried her.
Yet this could not be the same man, for Riltan was nothing if not
gentle. He was genuinely concerned for her pleasure, his hands
roaming her body, touching here and there, stroking, tweaking,
caressing.
As she rose and fell on him, his hand lowered to the juncture
of their bodies and his thumb found her clit and lightly rubbed it.
Takene shivered in pleasure and moved faster.
Riltan was finding it more and more difficult to think. His
body was engaged in a lovemaking, the like of which he had only
dreamed. As he rose to a peak, though, he became aware that
she was tiring. She lowered her body to his and he, using his
strength, rose up and turned over with her hanging onto him. Now
on top, he plunged into her more rapidly. Her breathing was coming
in gasps, as was his.
Takene's heels pressed against him, pushing him into her. His
excitement rose and he could hold back no longer. He groaned and
drove into her one last time before coming.
For some moments he lay on her, his weight trapping her,
until he recovered enough to take up his own weight again.
He reached one arm around her and, holding her tight to him,
turned again so she was on top once more, he still held within
her. Much better, he thought, as his hands were free to caress
and stroke her back.
He began talking to her, softly speaking of his love. She would
not understand the words, yet she would know what he was saying. She
was beautiful, she was his world. His touch would let her know of
his love as well.
Her head was resting on his chest, and she could both feel and
hear his heart beat. She heard his words and tears began to form,
to slowly run down until they dropped, one by one, onto him, her
lover. She had not come. It was unimportant. It had been good,
she felt loved and cherished, and next time it would be better. Next
time there would be no fears.
Slowly, in a cloudy haze of contentment, Takene slipped into
sleep. She did not notice it when Riltan stopped murmuring his
sweet words and eased out from under her - even a child would grow
unbearably heavy after a time and she was no child - leaving her
arm across him, her head on his shoulder.
Across the camp, eyes wide in the darkness, Iro had listened
to the sounds, had watched the movements as they sped then slowed.
The low cries of delight had redoubled her intention: she, too,
would have that pleasure - soon. It was her right and Takene would
not stop her.
A QUESTION OF HONOUR
Chapter 5
Riltan hummed softly as he skinned the ungulate which he had
shot. Next to him Lere watched carefully, knowing that he would
have to learn this skill. Sure enough, Riltan motioned him to
take over.
Riltan guided Lere's hand for the first few strokes, then
sat back to allow the boy to find his own rhythm. The sun
warmed him and he thought about how beautiful life could be.
He had never imagined anything like this at all. From
having nothing at all, he had suddenly come into a windfall - a
family: a beautiful mate who made the nights a joy, a boy to whom
he could impart the things he had learned and . . . and Iro. Iro
he couldn't quite place yet. She seemed a creature of moods, one
who could swing wildly from one to another without apparent cause.
And sometimes she gave him the most curious looks - mainly when
she didn't think he was looking, yet sometimes when he obviously
was.
Iro was a mystery to him, yet it did not stop him from enjoying
her company - even though they could barely communicate at all. Of
the four of them, Iro's signing was the most rudimentary. It didn't
matter, of course. Soon they would be in H'Las and learning the
language there.
Riltan looked up to watch Lere's progress. He was doing well
for one of so little experience. Riltan leaned forward and
corrected a small fault in Lere's technique, feeling good as he
did so. It was good to be able to pass on some of the things he
had learned, to instruct Lere, to see him grow more competent with
each day and to know that it due in no small part to his teaching.
Life was good.
Lere finished and began cutting up the meat as Riltan had
instructed him before. The meat would be dried and used as rations
for their trek to H'Las. Soon they would have enough food to begin
the journey, or so he told himself. In fact, the food they had
would be more than adequate. He, however, wished a greater variety,
or so he told himself.
Though Riltan had not yet formally broached the subject of
leaving with Takene, he knew she would agree. They couldn't stay
here, and there was nowhere else for them to go. He would bring it
up to her soon, he decided.
The only thing stopping him was the joy he felt in this place,
the only place he had ever thought of as 'home'. It would be
difficult to leave, no matter how necessary. He breathed in deeply
of the forest's scent and felt at peace. Broaching the subject
of leaving with Takene could wait another day. Meanwhile . . .
Riltan smiled again as he hummed, enjoying the buzzing of
insects, the sporadic calls of the birds and the sun on his face.
Life was good.
"I think you are delaying on purpose." Iro had made up her
mind to confront Takene about Riltan once again, but this time
she was going at it from a different slant.
Takene sighed as she prepared for yet another argument. She
knew how Iro was impatient to complete the rites, and she agreed
that the completion should come as soon as possible, yet to hurry
was to invite disaster.
"I'm not delaying, Iro. I'm waiting for the moment which
promises the best chance of success." Or was she? Was Iro right?
Was she enjoying the nights with Riltan so much that she was
putting off discussing with him leaving for Slindaria?
"How do you think my parents are feeling now, thinking that
Lere and I are dead?"
"I think they'll be happier waiting a little longer to be
proven wrong, than to be proven right, Iro. And if we move too soon
the odds are we will indeed end up dead. But it isn't your parents
you are thinking of, is it?"
Iro flushed, caught on that point. "Okay, maybe not, but until
we get back, I'll be unable to complete the rites." She paused, and
Takene knew what was coming. "As long as you persist in saying that
Riltan is unsuitable, that is."
Takene groaned inwardly. Back to this again. "Why can't you
just . . ." She couldn't even complete the sentence before Iro
interrupted her.
"I've been listening to you during the nights, you know."
Now it was Takene who flushed and Iro, sensing an advantage, pressed
forward. "You seem to be enjoying Riltan. You get up in the morning,
looking very satisfied. I don't see any hints of mistreatment. Tell
me, Takene, just what constitutes unsuitable?
"From my studies it seems to me that Riltan is suitable. He is
gentle, isn't he?"
Frustrated, Takene could only nod.
"He is skilled, isn't he - or is it that you are so horny that
anyone could get you off."
"Iro!" The word exploded out of Takene. "There is no call for
that."
"And there is no call to keep me waiting either. Tell me,
Aunt," Iro said sarcastically, "just what about Riltan is unsuitable?
Nothing, that's what." She answered her own question.
At that moment they saw Riltan and Lere returning.
"We'll continue this discussion later, Iro."
"Yes, that's what you always say." Iro was angry. "Okay,
Takene, we'll do it your way." She turned away, then turned back.
"Just one thing, though . . ."
"Yes?"
"You are wrong, Takene. You are wrong." Iro turned away,
leaving Takene frustrated and wondering if Iro were not correct.
She turned, also, to contemplate this and, thus occupied, she failed
to hear Iro come up behind her.
"And Takene, you make such pretty sounds," Iro whispered in
her ear.
Takene was still blushing furiously when Riltan and Lere
walked into the camp.
As Iro had suggested, the nights with Riltan had been very
enjoyable. And, again as Iro had suggested, he was gentle, very
gentle. This gentleness had gone a far way towards allaying her
fears and now he had only to touch her and she found herself
moistening, getting ready for him.
She had been right, as well. It had only become better.
His skilled touch sent her spiraling upwards quickly, and her
orgasms were becoming more powerful with each day.
Takene grinned at the irony. She had been trying to gain his
trust, and he had gained hers. The only difference between the
two of them being that he had no ulterior motive behind his
loveplay, while she did. Her smile faded.
Yes, these past days had been good, very good, and she hated
for them to end, yet end they must. Iro was right in one respect,
in that she wasn't hurrying to push Riltan towards leaving. She
sighed. It was time.
Riltan's face suddenly filled her vision and she started.
He grinned at her, knowing her mind had been elsewhere and that
she had not seen him approach.
<Good thoughts?> he asked.
<Yes-No. You-me walk> she suggested.
The slow smile that reached and encompassed his eyes thrilled
her. Her intention to walk and talk would not end with that, she
knew, as he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her in to
him. She shivered in delight and heard his soft chuckle at
her reaction.
Turning her head she looked up at his face. Gone completely
was the chiseled look of the killer who she had first seen and
feared. This was a different man, entirely, and would remain as
such - as long as she didn't take him back into his old world.
Her smile faded. That was something she couldn't avoid. The joy
of the afternoon left her.
Riltan sensed her change and stopped then turned to face her.
His hand traced a pattern on her cheek as he looked deeply into
her eyes. Could he sense the sadness there, she wondered.
His fingers moved up to her forehead then came down gently
over her eyes, closing them. Takene knew what was coming and
lifted her head in preparation for the kiss. Instead she felt
herself being roughly lifted and thrown over his shoulder. Her
eyes snapped open and she gasped as he started off, jolting
her with each step.
"Put me down, you big oaf," she ordered him, beating futilely
on his back. She knew he would understand.
"Quiet, you!" he told her in her own language, his words heavily
accented, and gave her a sharp slap on the rear.
Riltan began humming happily as he strode along and Takene
knew she was being carried off to be ravished. Excitement leaped
within her. She considered her plight for a moment then, with
a grin began to tickle him. Another sharp slap on her rear
stopped her.
"Ow. What was that for?" she asked plaintively, only to
get another slap.
"Quiet, you," Riltan chuckled, then spanked her once more
for good measure.
"Ow!" It didn't hurt as near as much as her cry suggested
and he knew it.
"Sorry." He sounded contrite, but wasn't. He started tenderly
stroking her rear, soothing the hurt.
"Oh my!" His stroking didn't stop at her slightly smarting
ass cheeks, but delved in between her legs, and she parted them
the small bit she could to give him a little more room. "Oh, yes."
It felt very good.
Soon, too soon, she was being lowered to the grassy ground.
The last few centimeters she was simply dumped, then pushed back
on her back before she could protest. His hands grasped her
shirt and pulled it from her pants. Then he was astride her,
pinning her arms to her sides with his legs and unbuttoning her
shirt, paying no attention at all to her weak struggles to
escape.
Her shirt was open almost to the waist and his fingers roamed
about her breasts, tweaking her nipples, caressing her bare skin.
She groaned in pleasure, not wanting this to end. She wondered
how far he would go in his pretense. A thought occurred to her.
She had to know.
"Riltan." She spoke sharply. He immediately stopped what
he was doing and looked at her inquiringly. Satisfied, she
simply stuck out her tongue at him.
His low chuckle rumbled out and he bent over to kiss her.
She closed her eyes and lifted her lips to him. When the kiss
did not come she looked up. He looked cross.
"Bad you!" he exclaimed.
Takene was about to reply when his fingers dug into her
ribs. She exploded in laughter and tried desperately to get away.
No matter how she twisted and heaved she could not get away. He was
just too heavy to move.
"Good Takene," she finally gasped and he relented, pulling
back up to look at her suspiciously.
"Good Takene?" he questioned.
"Good Takene," she confirmed, trying to look as meek as
possible.
He unbuttoned his fly and pulled his cock out. It was
semi hard. "Good Takene?" he asked her again, his eyes narrow,
doubting.
As a reply she opened her mouth and ran her tongue around
her lips and winked at him lasciviously. She could see him
struggling to keep a straight face. Suddenly he looked angry,
though his eyes were twinkling. He sat back in thought as
he ran through his knowledge of her language. Finally he
nodded to himself.
"No. Bad Takene. To punish," he said sternly, and put
his cock back inside his pants.
"Punish?" Her voice quavered. "No. Good Takene," she
protested. "Why would you wa - whoa!" He jumped off her,
rolled her over on her face and straddled her again in one swift
move.
"Quiet you!" he ordered as he pulled her shirt halfway down
her back, pinning her arms. He turned around to face her feet
and pulled her legs up one at a time to remove her boots and socks.
Then he began pushing her pants down, baring her buttocks. As they
appeared he stopped and stroked them a bit before pushing her
pants down to her knees. She felt his finger pushing between
her thighs, touching her, pressing into her, and she groaned.
Then it was gone and she felt the loss. She heard him
sucking her juices off his finger and smacking his lips in
approval.
Suddenly he was off her and pulling at her pants roughly.
She grabbed onto the grass to prevent herself from being dragged
and her pants came off in short order. Then she was flipped over
once more. She looked up through the wild mess that was her hair.
He stood above her, looking grim.
"Quiet you," he warned as she made to speak. "Bad Takene.
To punish." He kicked softly at her feet. She got the message
and spread her legs. He motioned for her to close her eyes,
which she did. He kept her waiting only a few seconds.
"Oh!" His mouth was at her sex, tongue lapping vigourously.
Her eyes snapped open in surprise then languidly closed as the
waves of pleasure began to wash through her. One finger entered
her, then another and, as they slowly moved in and out, his tongue
found and began to concentrate on her clit.
Takene had been ready, very ready, for the sexplay and Riltan's
tongue drove her relentlessly toward a powerful orgasm. She moaned
and twisted, wished she could move her hands up to touch her breasts,
yet the thrill of being held captive was delicious to her as well.
Gods of the Skies and Trees! He was allowing her no time at
all to get set; he was simply driving her from level to level,
higher and higher. This would be no gentle, relaxing orgasm, but
a sharp powerful one which would rock her very being. She dug
her fingers into the earth as it began.
Takene's legs pushed her lower body up as the orgasm took
hold. They held there for a long moment, with Riltan still flicking
away, before collapsing back down. Her breath came in ragged
gasps and a moan of joyful despair issued forth as she realized
that he was not going to let her rest at all, but was pushing her
back up to the heights once more.
Takene clenched her jaw as her body, in an amazingly short
period of time, spiraled up to the threshold of her second
orgasm. She was panting through her teeth, then her breath held
as she came to the point of orgasm and . . . and he stopped, leaving
her there on the edge.
"Bad Takene?" his voice was a mixture of laughter and exertion.
"Good Takene," she wailed, her wail punctured by another gasp
as he renewed his assault.
It was too much and her body bent like a bow.
Curled in a ball, her head resting on his lap, Takene slowly
came down. Riltan continued stroking her, caressing her, talking
softly to her in his own language. She felt blanketed by love and
cherished by this man . . . her man.
"You can punish me like that any time you want," she murmured
as her energy began to return. Her eyes opened and she looked up
at him. He looked at a loss and she uncurled and repeated what
she said in sign. He grinned at her.
<Feel better?>
<Feel beautiful> she replied.
<Look beautiful> His eyes told her it was truth and she
flung herself at him, covering his face with hundreds of little
kisses, until he fell back with her on top of him.
Then she was tearing at his clothes, pulling them off him
roughly, making him as naked as she was. Successful, she paused.
He was soft - not for long, she determined and, with a wicked
grin, went down on him. In only moments he was stiffening
nicely.
It was payback time. Takene swirled her tongue around him,
drawing out little gasps of pleasure, as she pumped him with her
hand. She was determined to drive him as he had driven her and
employed every trick at her command. It worked and it was now
Riltan who was gasping for breath. Now he was poised on the
brink and it was she who suddenly stopped. She looked up at
him, eyes twinkling, and asked, "Takene Good?"
Riltan's eyes focused on her and he moaned his agreement,
"Takene Good, Takene much good."
Satisfied, Takene moved to complete him. Within a minute
Riltan groaned loudly and came, his body bucking up then falling
back. She continued to suck and lick until he was finished, then
moved up and lay next to him, basking in the sun.
It was finally time to leave and the two lovers reluctantly
donned their clothes. Riltan looked around sadly. Takene watched
him expectantly. There was something on his mind.
<Time leave soon> he signed.
Takene nodded, pleased that he had brought it up. Now,
however, it was going to get a little tricky. He was so happy
here, so unlike what he had been when they had met, that she
was loathe to do anything to ruin it.
<Yes. Children must go-to parents> she replied.
Riltan looked shocked. <Parents? Parents not dead?>
<No. Parents not dead>
<Where?> A sickly pall of knowing settled on his features.
"Slindaria," she said quietly, wincing as the reality of
the situation came upon him, twisting his face.
"Slindaria," he whispered hoarsely.
<Yes. You take us, yes?>
Takene had to look away. The horror in his eyes was too much
for her. It had to be done, she tried to convince herself, yet
nothing would wipe the memory of that look from her mind. Could
anything be worth doing that to another? She turned back. He was
still in shock.
<You take us, yes?> she repeated, feeling her stomach twist
even as she did so.
He was shaking, his hands trembling uncontrollably, as he
answered. <You must not ask> he pleaded. <We go H'Las, yes?
Better. We go H'Las, please?>
<Can't. Children must go-to parents. I must take them.
Duty. I go-to Slindaria. You help?>
Riltan's face collapsed. "Wasteland," he whispered in
horror. <Can't> he signed and turned away, tears flowing freely
from his eyes and down his face.
Riltan stumbled, as if he were no longer able to see well,
and Takene, a lump in her throat, moved to his side and placed
her arm around his waist.
Together, and in silence, the unhappy couple returned to
the camp.
Riltan was sunk in the miasma of his thoughts. She didn't
know what she was asking. She couldn't know. Slindaria. The
Wastelands. This couldn't be asked of him. All the joy of
the day was dead. He loved her, them. They couldn't ask
this of him. He would die for them - gladly - but to go back,
no. No, he wouldn't, couldn't. Didn't they know what it would
do to him?
He lowered his head and held it in his hands. Slowly he
began rocking back and forth, seeking comfort in the movement.
Life was not good.
"What have you done?" Iro hissed at Takene. Lere stood
by, unsure of what was happening, knowing only that something
was terribly wrong.
"Only what you asked of me, Iro. Only what duty demanded
of me. I quit stalling. I asked him to help us get back to
Slindaria." Takene was subdued. She had grossly underestimated
how Riltan would react to her request. His pain tore at her
insides and it was all she could do to keep herself from running
to him, from telling him that it was okay, that they would go
to H'Las with him.
"I never asked you to do that. Look at him. I never asked
you to do that to him." Iro turned and walked away.
Takene smiled grimly, bitterly. Iro wasn't ready yet to face
up to her responsibilities. She would learn. She would have to.
For the present, however, Iro could run. She couldn't. Takene made
her way over to where Riltan sat and knelt beside him. She put her
arm around him.
Riltan jumped up as though scalded. He looked at her, as if
seeing her for the first time. She stood and made to speak but
he threw up his hand, stopping her. He looked at her a long moment
before turning and walking out of the camp.
Takene hugged herself and bent over, bitter tears falling
from her eyes. She felt so very alone. It wasn't fair. It
just wasn't fair. She stumbled over to her bed, their bed, and
fell onto it, curling into a tight ball, the pain overwhelming
her.
Hours later, in the early hours of the morning, just before
sunrise, Riltan returned. Takene looked up at him with eyes
darkened from a sleepless night. He sat down tiredly.
Takene noticed that his eyes were now guarded and his
face betrayed nothing. She waited, knowing that he would
speak when he was ready. Finally he was ready.
<I help, yes. I go, no. It rain soon. You wait. Leave
when rain come. I draw map, tell you how best to go, help
pack.>
<Thank-you> Takene signed. Riltan shrugged and lay
down to sleep. Takene lay down next to him and put her
arm around him. He neither moved away nor took her arm to
hold.
In the days which followed, as they waited for the rain,
Riltan was as good as his word. He worked tirelessly to prepare
the three for the journey to come. He spent hours explaining the
best routes to take in order to avoid contact with the occupants
of the Wastelands, spared no effort in the drawing of his maps or
in the practice sessions he held for loading and unloading the
pack animal.
Speed was of the essence he told them time and time again.
No one moved during the rainy days - which could last a week or
a day - and water would be plentiful. The more distance they
covered during this time, the better their chances were. Once
the rains stopped, they would be slowed considerably and water
would become a problem.
Keep the pack animal as long as it was of value, but the
moment it began to consume more than it was worth - dispose of it.
Best to kill it, but if they couldn't bring themselves to do that,
then just let it go. It might survive and find water, it might not.
To Takene alone he gave the advice to be ruthless towards
any they might meet. Just kill them where they stand, he told her,
knowing that she probably wouldn't be able to do that. Their best
protection would be lack of knowledge of their presence. The more
people that knew they were there, the greater the chances of someone
hunting them.
Then, at last, it was all done. Preparations had been completed.
all they needed now was the rain. There was a tension in the camp -
the knowledge that the parting of ways was coming pervaded everything
and no one could relax. It was the waiting out of a lingering
death.
Even Iro ceased her campaign to have Riltan as her first man.
His gloom made it uncomfortable to be around him. Though Takene
still shared his bed, Iro knew that they no longer made love. There
were no sounds from them at night. This was not what she had wanted.
She knew of the necessity of getting to Slindaria, and quickly at
that, yet a part of her wanted to go with Riltan to H'Las.
Lere was hit hardest. He couldn't understand why they were
to separate, why his only adult friend would be lost to him. He
moped around the camp feeling that all the others had betrayed him.
She was being shaken. Takene's eyes opened to the predawn
gloom. She looked up at Riltan, her eyes questioning.
<Listen> he signed.
She concentrated and off in the distance she heard it then,
thunder. The rains were coming. She turned back to Riltan, but
he was gone, waking Lere and Iro.
There was urgency in the air. She made a quick breakfast as
Lere and Riltan loaded the pack animal. The sun didn't rise. The
morning light showed banks of clouds in the distance, grey and
menacing. The rains would be there late this day or perhaps the
next. It was time to go.
Riltan led the way to the dry creek bed. He stopped at its
edge, unwilling to even set foot on it. He looked out in the
direction of the clouds.
<Not too late. H'Las there> he pointed.
Takene sighed. <Can't. Duty> She gave a half smile. <Not
too late. Come?>
Riltan looked down. <Can't> He kicked at his boot. <Go.
Go quickly. Go carefully. Go now.>
Takene nodded, then stepped up to him and hugged him tightly.
She felt the return hug almost squeeze the breath out of her. Too
soon, much too soon it was over.
<Thank you for my life> she signed, then turned and led her
charges across the dry creek bed.
Riltan watched them for a moment, then turned. Soon there would
be water rushing here, making it impossible to cross. He walked away,
holding back the tears which he would not recognize, would not allow.
He arrived back at the camp, deciding that he would wait out the
rain before moving on. The morning drifted into the afternoon and
the afternoon into evening. The camp was empty. Empty of people,
empty of life and empty of the joy which had once been. He couldn't
stay. He would leave the next morning, walk on through the rain.
Anything was better than staying here. He began to pack.
The morning came, grey and cool. Riltan made a quick breakfast
and shouldered his pack. It felt strange to be traveling again,
stranger still not to be carrying his shoulder weapon, but he had
decided that Takene would need it more than he.
Riltan took one last look around and set out, not wanting to
think of what this place had meant to him. It was over. It was
all over.
He came to the fork in the trail. To the right lay H'Las and
a new life. To the left, the Wasteland. He gazed to the left a
long time, wanting to go, knowing he could not. It was a question
of survival. If he went, even if he lived, he died. Yet what was
life without the one he loved? No. It was a question of survival.
Cross the creek bed, follow the others, and the one he would become
would not be welcomed by those he went to help. The one he had
become, with their help, would die in there. It was a question
of survival.
Riltan gave a long sigh and shifted the weight on his back.
His foot hit the creek bed even as the first drop of rain hit
his wide brimmed hat. The first step was hard, the next a little
easier, then he was hurrying.
It was, he decided, a question of honour.
End of "A Question of Honour" by Delta.