No Other Love Page 13

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  The long, intense tremors that had shaken her body were stilled at last. Her face was wet with tears, though she could not recall having shed them. Herne lay sprawled over her, one arm across her breasts.

  “All my life I’ve been angry,” he murmured, his warm breath against her shoulder, stirring her curling hair. “I’ve always been ready for a quarrel with words or a physical battle on the slightest provocation. Sometimes I have fought with no provocation at all, just to relieve the rage piled up inside me. But from the moment I took you into my arms, my anger was gone. For the first time I’m at peace. It feels wonderful.”

  “What have we done?” Merin’s voice quavered and broke. She swallowed a sob before trying again. “Herne, what was it that just happened between us?”

  “It’s called love.” He sounded amused. He moved his arm to hug her more closely. When he spoke again his voice held an awed solemnity. “It’s true; it was love we were making. That’s why I’m not angry any more. It’s because of you, and the love you gave me. Merin, my dearest, sweetest love.” He lifted himself to bend over her. She knew he intended to kiss her.

  “No, I cannot. It’s not allowed.” When she pushed against his chest he moved aside so she could sit up. She could tell he was puzzled by her behavior, but not frightened, as he should have been. But then, she should not have expected him to be frightened. He did not understand, he did not know the laws of Oressia. She did. She got off the bed and ran into the bathing room. The place between her legs, where he had pushed so hard and hurt her, ached now when she moved. She looked down and saw a smear of red on her inner thigh. She sank to her knees beside the bench, groping for her coif.

  “Merin, what’s wrong?” Herne was there, kneeling beside her, his beautiful naked body now an affront to her eyes. She was so frightened that when he pulled her against his chest she cried out in abject terror. Despite her panic-stricken struggles, he would not let her go. He held her close until she gained some control over her emotions.

  “My dearest, I know I hurt you,” he told her. “But I know you enjoyed it, too, and I promise it won’t hurt the next time, nor ever again. From now on, it will just get better.”

  “What am I to do?” she cried, seeming not to hear his attempt to comfort her. “There is no Tribunal of Elders here, so how can I be punished? And you, Herne, how can I save you?”

  “If it’s impossible for you to be punished for what we’ve done, I don’t think I have much to worry about.” Herne didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned by her fears. Never having made love to a virgin before, he was not certain if her distress was only the natural result of the major change that had just occurred in her life, or if she actually did think she ought to be punished. When she pulled away from him, he let her go, until she picked up her coif and shook it out. Moving swiftly, he tore the cloth out of her fingers and tossed it aside. “Don’t cover your hair. It’s too beautiful to hide. Now, what is this about punishment? Come on, Merin, don’t hide your face from me, either. After what we’ve just enjoyed together, I deserve an explanation.”

  “I am forbidden to tell you. Herne, please, please, don’t try to make me reveal what I must not. You have taken – no, I will be honest about this. I have given you something I should not give to anyone, given it willingly and joyfully. What we have done together, I will do again if you ask me. Having begun as we did, I know I could not refuse you. But I implore you, do not pry into Oressian affairs. If you do, it will destroy what is between us. Let me bear the burden of blame. It is my responsibility.”

  “All right,” he said, wanting to reassure her. “For the moment, because we are in strange and unusual circumstances, I will ask no more questions. But I make no promises for the future. There will come a time when I will want some honest answers.”

  Chapter 11

  Tula was a plump little man with an honest, open face, a shaved head, and twinkling blue eyes. He wore a long blue robe similar to Dulan’s, with the hood thrown back.

  “The news of your arrival has spread through all of Tathan,” Tula said when Dulan introduced Herne and Merin to him. “No doubt by now even the quarry workers have heard the tale. Everyone is asking the questions I now put to you. Where is your home? How did you come here? I need not inquire if you mean us harm, for I can sense that you are merely confused and curious, as well as a bit frightened.”

  “Tula’s special talent is the ability to perceive the emotions of others without the deliberate use of his telepathic powers,” Dulan explained.

  “We have been friends since we were young.” Tula placed a hand on Dulan’s shoulder. “It often happens that telepaths just leaving babyhood form a close and unbreakable bond. They need not be of the same gender, and it matters not at all whom they marry, for nothing can destroy their telepathic closeness.”

  “It was Tula who cared for me after I was released from a Jurisdiction prison,” Dulan added quietly, indicating that they should all be seated in the chairs arranged by the fireplace. “For that kindness, I owe him my life. I believe he can be trusted with any secret.”

  “So do I,” said Merin. She remained a little unsure about Dulan’s character, because of the hood covering the mystery of a scarred and disfigured face and her uncertainty as to whether Dulan was man or woman, but she had liked Tula on sight. She believed there was no guile in the man and no violence, either. She thought Herne was still undecided about either telepath. She noticed him regarding Tula with hard, disbelieving eyes.

  “You are doubtful,” said Tula to Herne. “Will you tell me what troubles you?”

  “I’m still not certain that you and Dulan, or any of Tathan for that matter, really exist,” Herne responded.

  “Do you believe we may be an elaborate illusion?” Tula asked. “What an interesting concept. Have you any idea how much telepathic power would be necessary to create and maintain such a complicated image? Dulan and I would have no energy left to use while conversing with you.”

  “You would if you were part of the illusion,” Herne stated. “Or if you had planted the fantasy in our minds instead of using a physical construction.”

  “An even more delightful idea.” Tula laughed. “I wish it were possible. Like so many in the Jurisdiction, you seem to have an exaggerated notion of the capabilities of telepaths. I doubt if even Saray allied with the entity Ananka could do what you suggest.”

  “What about Ananka alone?” Herne asked. “Could she do it?”

  “I do not know,” said Tula, meeting Herne’s gaze with obvious honesty. Herne held that gaze for a while.

  “All right,” Herne said, making up his mind to trust Tula. “Until something happens to convince me otherwise, I will accept your claim that Tathan and everyone in it are real. I would like to meet this Saray.”

  “Dulan, I think we ought to arrange it.” Tula turned toward his friend. “Perhaps, tomorrow morning? She will not refuse a request from her old teacher.”

  “If, as I suspect, she is responsible for the presence of Merin and Herne in Tathan, she will not dare to refuse,” Dulan agreed.

  “You think this is another of her experiments?” Tula shook his head. “Oh, dear, this matter of Saray and Ananka grows more difficult by the day. Merin, Herne, I must insist that you answer my original questions.”

  “Tell him how we came to be here, Herne,” urged Merin, “or I will.”

  Faced with that choice, Herne gave Tula the same story he had earlier told Dulan, letting them believe that he and Merin had been the only explorers to visit the ruins of Tathan, and that the Kalina was a small ship.

  “I sense concealment,” Tula said, “which you believe is for our benefit. Very well, I will accept as much as you want to tell us, while hoping that when you know us better, you will confide all. Your problem, as I perceive it, is to find a way to return to your own time and place. The only telepath I know who has power strong enough to help you is Saray.”

  “Can’t we see her right
away?” Herne asked.

  Tula shook his head. “Arrangements must be made. Morning is soon enough. In the meantime, let us enjoy Dulan’s hospitality, which is famous throughout Tathan.”

  They ate at a well-scrubbed wooden table in the kitchen, sitting upon wooden chairs with woven rush seats. The dishes and cutlery were simple, handmade shapes. There was a poached fish fresh from the sea, served with vegetables and homemade bread. They drank more of the beer-like beverage, which Dulan told them was called batreen.

  “It is made by fermenting our excess grain after we have stored all we need for the winter or for seed in the following spring. Batreen is a means of preserving the leftover harvest rather than wasting it,” Dulan said. “Those who drink too much too quickly do become inebriated for a short time, but there are no aftereffects and the brew itself is healthful.”

  Merin wondered if the cups of batreen she had drunk earlier in the day had helped to lower her inhibitions, thus allowing her to accept Herne’s embraces. The place where he had entered her body still ached, but it was not an entirely unpleasant feeling. In fact, each time she looked at him she thought of what he had done to her and she wanted him to do it again. She wanted to rise from Dulan’s table, to take Herne’s hand and lead him back to their room, there to lie naked on the bed with him while he kissed and caressed her. She wanted to feel him moving deep inside her, thrusting, thrusting…. She picked up her cup of batreen and drained it.

  It was not surprising that Oressian laws were so strict if this was the result of lovemaking, this almost uncontrollable desire to do it again and again. She saw Tula looking at her and remembered that he could sense emotion. He would know how much she wanted Herne. To protect her disgracefully lascivious thoughts from discovery, she forcefully banished Herne from her mind while pulling about herself the tattered barriers of her Oressian training. When she saw Tula’s startled expression she knew she had been successful. Thereafter she paid strict attention to the conversation, refusing to allow her mind to wander again.

  Dulan and Tula talked about the founding of Tathan, the building of the settlement they proudly called a city. It was a peaceful place, they said, productive and self-sufficient, as all isolated colonies must be.

  “Peaceful except for the disruptions caused by Saray,” Herne said, returning to the subject that most interested him. “I gather you both believe her experiments could permanently divide your people.”

  “A problem with which we must deal soon, before Saray becomes so powerful that no one can stop her,” said Dulan. “Perhaps it is our good fortune that you have come to us at this particular time. We can help each other. Tula and I will do all we can to assist you in your efforts to leave Tathan, while in return we ask you to add your voices to ours as we try to make Saray understand that what she is doing is wrong, and that she is causing serious conflicts among our citizens.”

  “Those of us old enough to recall the terrors inflicted upon telepaths by the Jurisdiction know that we must always stand together,” Tula put in. “It is the younger folk, born here in peace and safety, who now would join Saray’s experiments against the advice of their elders. We old ones know how divisive, and how dangerous to all of us, those experiments could be.”

  “Saray is not a wicked woman, but she is woefully misguided by Ananka,” Dulan added.

  “Your plan sounds reasonable enough to me,” Herne said.

  “Saray must know we are here,” Merin remarked. “Why hasn’t she come to see the results of her latest experiment?”

  “It is my belief that the experiments exhaust her. She will need time to rest and recover her strength,” Dulan replied.

  “’Exhaust her,’” Merin repeated, thinking. “If that is so, perhaps we can make her see that these experiments could be physically dangerous for people who are not as telepathically strong as she is. If she has any sense of responsibility at all, she won’t want to lead others into harmful practices.”

  “Tell her that. Tell her whatever you think will help our joint cause,” Tula urged. The meal finished, he rose to leave.

  “May I walk with you?” Herne asked. “I don’t like being confined. I want some exercise.”

  “You are not prisoners,” Dulan said. “You may go wherever you wish. But the evening grows cold. You will need some covering.”

  “I’ll go, too,” Merin said, not wanting to be separated from Herne.

  “I will remain here, to make contact with one of Saray’s servants and request an appointment. Tula will explain to you how to find your way back to this house.” Dulan produced a jacket for Herne to wear and a striped shawl for Merin.

  Merin was wearing her treksuit and had donned her coif before dinner, over Herne’s objections. As soon as she stepped through the door, she wrapped the shawl around her shoulders. The wind was surprisingly strong. She remembered that while they were exploring the ruins of Tathan with Tarik a similar wind had swept down from the plateau each evening.

  The streets were deserted, lit only by the silver glow of the twin moons.

  “Doesn’t anyone go out at night?” asked Herne.

  “Dulan lives in a particularly quiet neighborhood,” Tula said. “The central square is a lively place, especially on the night of a Gathering, as you will see tomorrow.”

  “How will your people react to our presence at the Gathering?” Merin asked. “When we walked through the city earlier today everyone ignored us as if we were invisible.”

  “They would have recognized you at once as Jurisdiction personnel,” Tula said. “They were probably trying not to antagonize you. By tomorrow night all will know that you have not come to Tathan with violent intentions.

  “Now, here is my house, and I thank you for your escort. If you wish to return to Dulan’s home by another route, walk to the end of the street and turn right. The path there will take you along the land that rises above the edge of the salt marsh. Dulan’s house is the last one just before you reach the Gathering Hall. Good night, my friends. I will rejoin you in the morning.”

  They found the path with no difficulty. On their right as they walked were houses, each with wide windows or terraces arranged to take advantage of the view, and each with an extensive garden. Lights shone in many windows, and here and there a torch flamed to illuminate a garden. Occasionally they could hear the murmur of voices or the sound of laughter. With the houses sheltering them from the northwest wind that had gusted through the wide city streets, the air seemed warmer.

  To their left and a little below the path lay the salt marsh, its grasses bending in the wind, an occasional pool or water channel touched with silver by the moons. Silver, too, were the distant sand dunes, which ran straight across the horizon until they merged into the sand bar that marked the eastern end of Tathan Harbor.

  “This is a nice place.” Herne was walking close beside Merin. “I like it here. Too bad it will all be destroyed soon.”

  “Nothing we can do will change that, Herne. The Cetans will come. At least we know Dulan and Tula will escape.”

  “I don’t want to talk about any problems right now,” he said. “I’m tired and still not certain exactly what happened to us to bring us here. All I want to do for the next hour or so is enjoy the quiet and the peace, and being with the woman I love.”

  He took her hand and they walked along in silence. Merin could think of at least half a dozen subjects they ought to be discussing while they were in the open with little chance of being overheard so long as they kept their voices low. But there was a magical quality to the night, with the moons riding high in a cloudless sky, the mingled scents of flowers and salt in the air, and the warmth of Herne’s fingers enclosing her hand.

  “I believe this must be happiness,” she murmured, just before she tripped over a clump of grass. Herne caught her around the waist.

  “You’ve had too much batreen,” he accused her, laughing.

  “I have no way of judging whether what you say is true, or not. I have never been th
e least bit inebriated before,” she admitted. “Will I now disgrace myself by singing or hiccupping?”

  He gave a low chuckle, which ended when his mouth captured hers. The idea of kissing in the open air, where anyone might see them, had not occurred to Merin. She found the experience shocking, exciting, and totally wonderful.

  “From what Dulan said,” Herne murmured a few minutes later, “the effects of batreen are pleasant, but they don’t last long.”

  “That’s a pity. I was beginning to enjoy myself.” She was startled at her own words. She, who did not know how to tease anyone, was teasing Herne. Herne laughed back at her. They stood a moment longer in the moonlight, with their arms around each other and laughter still on their lips, until he kissed the tip of her nose. Merin decided she wasn’t inebriated at all. She was just a little light-headed and ridiculously happy to be so close to Herne.