I will not bear a child in war and terror," she told him,
and when the chieri lord saw that her body was heavy with the child of Carthon, he laid down his spear and wept, and then he called his men back into the forest; after, they pledged friendship eternal, and there a great feast was held -they still say, in the mountains, when someone shows great honor, 'They feasted him like the Lords of Carthon.' In the end the friendship was broken, and the chieri withdrew again across the Kadarin and into the hills beyond Carthon; but from the sons of Carthon was born Cassilda, who was the bride of Hastur, and from whom were descended the sons of the Seven Domains."
Desideria ended her story, and her listeners sat silent for a moment. Then David, seizing on a salient point, said: "They speak of a woman of the chieri. . . ." "That is the way she appeared to your people," Keral said quietly. "To me what seems important about this tale -and it may well be true-is that a child was born between human and chieri, without madness or fear. I have known long that the Comyn people here on Darkover bore the blood of my people in your veins. We chieri think of you as our far grandchildren. And so, although we die, some part of our folk survives, even at far remove."
David asked," But where does the red hair come from?" "I'm not sure," Jason said, "but I've studied Darkovan history; there's a theory, you know, that Darkover was originally colonized by one of the lost ships'-ships from the 21st and 22nd centuries, before the Terran Empire, before the hyperdrives, when so many ships vanished and were never heard of again. Red hair-adrenal function-is commonplace in one or two old Earth strains, particularly the highland Celts who were said to be psychic-second sight. Possibly this became fixed in the telepath line."
Desideria said, "I think I mentioned the belief among matrix workers-the redder the hair, the stronger the gift. But there was also a theory that very intense psychic work would make a Keeper go gray early. My own hair turned white almost overnight after the Sharra contacts." "So did mine," said Regis in a low voice. "Partial adrenal exhaustion?" Jason theorized. "In the mountains where I had my home," Desideria said, "I heard many tales of the chieri, how fair they were. There is an old song. I cannot recall it now," her brow furrowed in a strange, inward-turned attempt at recall, "which tells of a chieri woman seeking for her mortal lover, not knowing -so long they live-that in the years between, her lover had grown old and died. . .."
Missy said, not looking up, her voice almost a whisper, "Before I knew what I was . . . only once did I ever think I loved; I remained young, a child in looks and years, and he grew old, old. . . ."
Her voice died. Keral reached out quietly, across Conner, and touched her hand. She smiled, a brief sad glint of a smile, and was silent. Regis reached for Linnea's hand, drew her fingers under his arm.
"Always-a woman of the chieri," David murmured, hardly aware that he spoke aloud.
Linnea raised her eyes and looked at Keral. She said, "I am not idly curious, believe me. But I have heard strange things, in legend. Legends lie; to lie like an old song, is a proverb with us. Tell me this, then. Is it true that your people take a mate but once, and if death or misfortune part you, seek never for another?"
"Not entirely true," said Keral, "although it is true that once our hearts and emotions are set on one, we seldom seek elsewhere. I am speaking from the long memory of my people, not from my own experience, you understand, Lady. Rare is the chieri who comes not to his lover untouched- as she to him. It is not that we demand this, it is simply that all things come in season; and we do not, as we say, seek fruit in spring, or blossom from a winter bough. . . ." He sighed. "It is not only that we desire no other; we can endure no other, as a common thing. And this is why we died, our people. . . . Perhaps it is Evanda's way to cancel the gift of long life she gave us when the world was shaped. Our women are able to bear for only-I know not your words-cuere-one turn of the seasons? A year? Yes; maybe
one year in a hundred, and sometimes for many cueru at a time, those of us in male phase can sow only barren seed. So rarely does it happen, as you can see, that both would come together, raiva-ripened for mating: one to engender, and his mate to conceive, in a single season. So fewer and fewer children were born to us. There are exceptions. There are times when one of us, desperate to bear, would seek another mate. Yet, it has ever been a bitter, hard thing, and seldom can any one of our people bring herself to this. Something in our blood will not allow it, as I have told you."
Linnea said: "Is it true then, what else they say-that your people lie down together-" she used the courtly and evasive casta word, accandir, but spoke calmly and without embarrassment, "only when they desire children?"
Keral laughed aloud. "That tale, at least, is false-or else it would make us a strange folk indeed! No, Linnea, I suppose we come together like any other people in this world, or any other world, for consolation in loneliness, for pleasure, for heart's ease. But-except in the madness of the Change -it is not a drive, a compulsion. Not a need, but a pleasantness, as with music, or dancing."
David said slowly, "A people without divided sexes, then, without an overwhelming sex drive-"
"Would have a low survival factor," Jason said; and Regis added, "Something of this has come down in our blood from you. I've known for many years that among telepaths the sexual drive is lower than in ordinary man."
Conner, who had not spoken aloud yet, said quietly from where he sat in shadow, "This makes sense. Those with 'closed minds' have no way to reach one another except in the blind touching of bodies in sex. . . ."
"And sex can be a deeper contact," said Linnea gravely, "or it can-if you're doing intense telepathic work-act as a kind of static, so disruptive that it was believed, for a long time, that a Keeper telepath must be a virgin. Most of them aren't, these days-I'm not-but some care is needed. Men doing heavy telepath work in the matrix screens are impotent a good deal of the time." Desideria nodded. "When I was a girl, it was believed a Keeper must be a virgin," she said. "I was banned from my place with my first love; I found soon that I had not lost my powers, but it was years before I had the courage to use them again."
"Another thing," said Linnea, looking straight at David, "among the Comyn telepaths men and women are not regarded as so different, and it is common enough for young girls to fall In love, first, with other girls, and young boys with their playmates."
"It's not unknown among Terrans either," said Jason, "but the taboo is very strong."
Regis said, holding Linnea's hand, "For me, this was a frightful conflict. I was brought so young to know that I was the last male Hastur; my father died so young, my grandfather so old. From my earliest childhood I came to feel they regarded me only as seed. I came to hate women, for a time. I felt at ease only with other men, my kinsmen and cousins.. . ." He looked quickly, smiling, at Danilo.
David laughed. "They could have solved that in the Empire," he said; "they'd have had you contributing to a sperm bank." He chuckled at Regis' look of noncomprehension and explained, and had the surprising experience of seeing Regis Hastur blushing. Evidently sex wasn't quite the no-taboo thing among telepaths that he had been led to believe. Silently he reflected that despite the strong taboo on overt homosexual behavior in Terran cultures, he had often felt closer rapport with his male friends in the hospital than with most women.
-You establish rapport quickly, from Regis.
I'm not homosexual!
"Would it matter so much if you were? Regis caught them all up quickly in the swift net of rapport. Conner and Missy, their fingers lightly intertwined, fair and dark, dropped a curious bittersweet note into the contact; a swift touch of warmth from Desideria, I love you all, although none of you has ever touched me or will; a strange tense reaching from Keral, still hesitant and filled with fear....the preliminaries of love play . . . how break this deadlock. . ..
There was a long silence. Outside the glass, soft snow beat on the panes and a silent wind whirled, white against the darkness. In Keral's mind was a picture of a forest, lyi
ng quiet under snow, light forms moving in a snowflake dance through the bare trees and groves ... a moment they all felt the soft blowing through the chieri grove as it lay silent in the winter twilight.
Then Regis said softly, aloud:
"Among my people they say that when men come together with men, or women with women, as lovers-we call it the donas amizu, the gift of friends-it is recognition of a deeper truth. That within every woman is a hidden man; within every man, a hidden woman. And it is to this inner self, the polar opposite of your own, that you give your love."
"The animus and the anima" Jason murmured.
"And in the chieri," Missy said softly, "the inner side is not hidden, and lies nearer to the surface. This is new to me, too. . .."
"-but not a thing of shame."
And once again the intense awareness caught them all up, Regis, Linnea, Desideria holding them all together in a close bond. David suddenly knew that he had found his own truth. Man or woman? He touched Conner for a moment and sensed a like sense of homecoming; felt Linnea nestling like a flower in his consciousness, reached out briefly with his hands, drew her close and kissed her lips; felt himself embraced quickly by Jason; dropped in and out of swift awareness; Missy flaring like a comet across his senses; the swift stir of warmth and love that was Desideria; returning to Keral with a sense of homecoming.
He knew, now, that although they would be afraid of each other again, the deadlock of shame and fear had been broken, and he and Keral would somehow find a way to one another. The rapport slid apart, and they were separated. But David knew he would never be alone again. Even as they drew apart, an undertone of mirth ran through their minds, still lightly linked, with Linnea's laughing protest:
"I love your kinsman, Regis; but must he go wherever we go? Will Danilo sleep at our feet? Can we never be alone?" And the quick, sobering answer: "Would you meet Melora's fate? Alone?"
And as the contact fell apart into its last disappearing shreds, a scrap of thought that there were some things even a bodyguard could not do.
XIII
when they separated, quietly and without leavetakings (what for? They knew they would always be together), David and Keral walked home quietly across the city, guided by the lights of the Terran HQ like a vast white tower in the clearing dark. They clung lightly to each other's hands as they walked, but neither spoke much until, as they passed through the spaceport gates, Keral said, as if answering David's words, "I don't care, now, if they know."
"No."
"Contact with Conner brought Missy back from the worst madness of the Change."
They did not speak again, but went quietly up to the rooms assigned to David. It had the familiarity, now, of home.
Taking advantage of privilege, David had supper sent to their rooms, and they ate together in a growing sense of closeness and isolation, deepened by awareness of the falling, insulating snow, all around them. Keral was in the merriest of moods, and it was infectious; everything either of them said seemed witty, and they kept going off into gales of mad laughter, from a dim awareness that somehow their very presence was funny in a solemn way. What had they been afraid of? David suddenly became aware that he was moving perilously close to the edge of drunkenness and pushed aside a third glass of the sweet, pale wine from the Darkovan mountains. Keral followed the gesture and said gravely, "I wasn't trying to get you drunk, but does it matter if we are?"
"Only that I'm not sure of the effects of alcohol on your metabolism-and too damn sure of its effect on mine!" David laughed and put it firmly aside. "Anyhow, I don't want to spoil anything by being out of focus."
"It means so much to you, to have everything clear and defined? Maybe things aren't meant to be quite that clear. It might be a good thing if the edges were a little blurred." Keral came over, bent and took David's head between his hands; a strange gesture and David sensed at once, an unusual and intimate one. He said, almost whispering, "After all, it's only safe to look at the sun through smoked glasses."
"It's too serious for that."
"And you think it isn't serious for me?" Keral turned David's face upward by main force and their eyes met; and something inside David turned over. He had been living with this for weeks, but suddenly it was there crystal clear and without the merciful blurring: desire and tenderness, too entangled to be sure which was which. Keral said, "If I didn't take it more seriously than you can possibly know-I wouldn't be here." Keral dropped to the floor and laid his head on David's knees. His long hair felt soft and fine; David felt a faint shivering run through Keral, and wanted to seize him in his arms, but he knew, rationally, that he must wait. For Keral this would be a slow-rising, slow-culminating thing, and any shock might arrest or damage the whole process. Keral looked up, and David, aware now of his subtler expressions, knew he was on the edge of tears. "I'm afraid, David. Missy was actually in a man's arms when the change came on her, and it went the wrong way. How can we be sure?"
David almost panicked at that. Keral had been sure that all would be well. If he lost confidence, what lay ahead?
But; perhaps this was inevitable. As polarity ebbed and flowed, male to female, passive to active, there must be- David found it quieted him to think clinically-some fairly drastic hormone changes, and this would make Keral's emotions volatile, uncertain, labile. The very knowledge of the inevitability of the process may be what's making Keral panic, as if he's started something he can't change or control ... as inevitable and drastic as birth. . . .
David thought, using a male pronoun is part of what's probably bothering me, too. No good; however hard he tried, he could not think of Keral as a woman; any more than he could sense, psychologically, Missy as a male, though he had actually seen her as one.
Yet there was woman in Keral. . ..
The hidden woman. . . .
He must accept it; help it to emerge.
David bent over Keral, repeating Keral's gesture, hands at either side of the delicate pale face. "Don't be afraid. I'll try not to-go faster than you can follow."
Keral smiled but did not speak. David, finding that clinical thoughts calmed him, ran deliberately over his knowledge of the alien physiology. Keral's present neuter phase, with a slight balance to maleness, would, if the stimulus was adequate-and this was a big if-if the psychological and physiological stimuli were all in balance, gradually tip the balance toward the female: hormones, genitals, psychology.
From a strictly physical point of view, actual intercourse should be possible; even now, it should be possible. That was all they knew; that theoretically, with their knowledge of anatomy, there was no reason it should not be possible.
But there was a hell of a long gap between the theoretical and the practical! He thought, I've never had hypothetical sex before, and realized he must still be on the very edge of being drunk. He wondered how long the shift to female phase took.
"I don't know," Keral said, and David never knew if he had put the question aloud, "we're not as tied down to clocks as you people. I've never timed it. To guess-with one of my own-perhaps two or three hours or less. But with you-I'm not trying to be vague; I don't know!"
"It doesn't matter," David said quickly, recognizing near hysteria. The hormones are identical. Theoretically he should react to me exactly as to one of his own people. But the psychic factor means a hell of a lot too.
David felt a sort of fierce tenderness. Difficult and frightening as this was for him, for Keral it must be almost unbelievably so. David only broke a superficial taboo against sex with someone with similar organs. A damn silly taboo anyhow. David would at least remain in his own familiar gender and role. Keral, after unimaginable years as a male -how old was he? Three or four hundred or even more? -must change. And-this distressed David even more-it was Keral as a male he had learned to love. Would Keral as a female seem so strange that love would vanish in the strangeness? Would he be less beloved?
Keral was still shivering violently; David held him, wondering with a curious, distracte
d curiosity if some more directly sexual stimulus would help or hinder the psychic, or even the physical changes. It might ease the sense of strain, or heighten it. He didn't know. He could only guess. Tentatively, he kissed Keral; Keral accepted the kiss passively, neither refusing nor responding, and David began to draw away; but Keral's hands tightened and he kept David close.
Damn it. It seems so cold-blooded, to psych him out like this. Like an experiment.
David finally found his voice. "Keral, I'm afraid too. I don't know how you respond, or what to expect at any given moment, or even how you feel about this. If this is going to work at all, there's one thing we don't dare do, and that's to assume the other one knows. I've found out that this mind reading business tends to come unstuck at the damnedest times! If this is even going to be physically possible, let alone the way we want it, we've got to be completely frank with each other. Completely. If I go too fast, or do anything you aren't ready for, you're going to have to stop me; and don't be upset if I do the same with you. Because we can't take the chance of blundering down blind alleys."