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From: Delta <delta@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} RP "A Question of Honour" by Delta 2\5 (MF)
Date: Sun, 9 Jul 2000 08:10:14 -0400
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RE
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 It is not to be published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 on 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
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.
End of Part 2 A Question of Honour by Delta.
delta @ nym . alias . net
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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