Dreamsnake (15 page)
Snake and Gabriel lay close together, both sweaty and breathing heavily,
their arms around each other. For Snake, the companionship was as important as
the sex itself. More important, for sexual tensions were easily enough dealt
with. Aloneness, and loneliness, were something else altogether. She leaned over
Gabriel and kissed his throat and the edge of his jaw.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Snake could feel the vibration of his words
against her lips.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “But I didn’t ask you for selfless reasons.”
He lay silent for a while, his fingers spread along the curve of her waist.
Snake patted his hand. He was a sweet boy. She knew the thought was
condescending, but she could not help it, nor could she help wishing, with the
detached observer part of herself, that Arevin was with her instead. She wanted
someone she could share with, not someone who would be grateful to her.
Gabriel suddenly held her tight and hid his face against her shoulder. She
stroked the short curls at the back of his neck.
“What am I going to do?” His voice was muffled, his breath warm on her skin.
“Where will I go?”
Snake held him and rocked him. Suddenly she wondered if it might have been
kinder to let him leave her when he had offered to send someone else, to allow
him to continue his life of abstinence unbroken. Yet she could not believe he
was really one of the unfocused pitiful human beings who could never learn any
biocontrol at all.
“Gabriel, what kind of training did you have? When they tested you, how long
could you hold the temperature differential? Didn’t they give you a token?”
“What kind of token?”
“A little disc with a chemical inside that changes color with temperature.
Most of the ones I’ve seen turn red when a man raises his genital temperature
high enough.” She grinned, remembering an acquaintance who was rather vain about
the intensity of his disc’s color, and had to be talked into removing it when he
went to bed.
But Gabriel was frowning at her. “High enough?”
“Yes, of course, high enough. Isn’t that how you do it?”
His fair eyebrows drew together, distress and surprise mixing in his
expression. “Our teacher instructs us on keeping the temperature low.”
The memory of her vain friend and any number of bawdy jokes came together in
Snake’s mind. She wanted to laugh out loud. Somehow she managed to reply to
Gabriel with a perfectly straight face.
“Gabriel, dear friend, how old was your teacher? A hundred?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said. “At least. A very wise old man. He still is.”
“Wise, I’m sure, but out of touch,” Snake said. “Out of date by eighty years.
Lowering the temperature of your scrotum will make you infertile. But raising
the temperature is much more effective. And it’s supposed to be a good deal
easier to learn.”
“But he said I could never control myself properly—”
Snake frowned but did not say what she thought: that no teacher should ever
say that to a student about anything. “Well, often one person doesn’t get along
well with another and all that’s needed is a different teacher.”
“Do you think I could learn?”
“Yes.” She restrained another sharp comment about the wisdom and ability of
Gabriel’s first teacher. It would be better if the young man realized the
teacher’s faults himself. Clearly, he still felt too much admiration and
respect; Snake did not want to push him into a defense of the old man, the
person who perhaps had done most to hurt him,
Gabriel grasped Snake’s hand. “What do I do? Where do I go?” This time he
spoke with hope and excitement.
“Anywhere the men’s teacher knows techniques less than a century old. Which
direction are you going when you leave?”
“I
…
I haven’t decided.” He looked away.
“It’s hard to go,” Snake said. “I know it is. But it’s best. Spend some time
exploring. Decide what will be good for you.”
“Find a new place,” Gabriel said sadly.
“You could go to Middlepath,” Snake said. “The best teachers I’ve heard of
live there. And then when you’ve finished you can come back. There’ll be no
reason not to.”
“I think there will. I think I’ll never be able to come home again, because
even if I do learn what I need, people here will always wonder about me. The
rumors will still be there.“ He shrugged. ”But I have to go anyway. I promised.
I’ll go to Middlepath.“
“Good.” Snake reached back and turned down the lamp to a tiny spark. “The new
technique has other benefits, I’m told.”
“What do you mean?”
She touched him. “It requires you to increase the circulation in the genital
area. That’s supposed to increase endurance. And sensitivity.”
“I wonder if I have any endurance now?”
Snake began to answer him seriously, then realized Gabriel had made his
first, tentative, joke about sex.
“Let’s see,” she said.
A hurried knock on the door woke Snake well before dawn. The room was gray
and ghostly, highlighted in shades of pink and orange from the lamp’s low flame.
Gabriel slept soundly, smiling faintly, his long blond eyelashes gently brushing
his cheeks. He had pushed away the bedclothes and his long beautiful body lay
uncovered to mid-thigh. Snake turned reluctantly toward the door.
“Come in.”
A stunningly lovely young servant entered hesitantly, and light from the
corridor spilled over the bed.
“Healer, the mayor—” She gasped and stood staring at Gabriel, the blood on
her hands forgotten. “The mayor
…
”
“I’ll be right there.” Snake got up, slipped into her new pants and the stiff
new shirt, and followed the young woman to the mayor’s suite.
Blood from the opened wound soaked the bedding, but Brian had done the proper
emergency things: the bleeding had nearly stopped. The mayor was ghastly pale,
and his hands trembled.
“If you didn’t look so sick,” Snake said, “I’d give you the tongue-lashing
you deserve.” She busied herself with the bandages. “You’re blessed with a
superb nurse,” she said when Brian returned with fresh sheets and was easily
within hearing. “I hope you pay him what he’s worth.”
“I thought
…
”
“Think all you like,” Snake said. “An admirable occupation. But don’t try to
stand up again.”
“All right,” he muttered, and Snake took it as a promise.
She decided she did not need to help change the sheets. When it was
necessary, or when it was for people she liked, she did not mind giving menial
services. But sometimes she could be inordinately prideful. She knew she had
been unforgivably short with the mayor, but she could not help it.
The young servant was taller than Snake, easily stronger than Brian; Snake
expected she could handle her share of lifting the mayor and most of Brian’s as
well. But she watched with a distressed expression as Snake left the room to go
back to bed and padded barefoot down the hallway.
“Mistress—?”
Snake turned. The young servant glanced around as if afraid someone might see
them together.
“What’s your name?”
“Larril.”
“Larril, my name is Snake, and I hate being called ‘mistress.’ All right?”
Larril nodded but did not use Snake’s name.
Snake sighed to herself. “What’s the matter?”
“Healer
…
in your room I saw
…
a servant should not see some things. I don’t want to shame any member of this
family.” Her voice was shrill and strained. “But
…
but
Gabriel—he is—” Her words caught in confusion and shame. “If I asked Brian what
to do he would have to tell his master. That would be
…
unpleasant. But you mustn’t be hurt. I never thought the mayor’s son would—”
“Larril,” Snake said, “Larril, it’s all right. He told me everything. The
responsibility is mine.”
“You know the—the danger?”
“He told me everything,” she said again. “There’s no danger to me.”
“You’ve done a kind thing,” Larril said abruptly.
“Nonsense. I wanted him. And I have a good deal more experience at control
than a twelve year old. Or an eighteen year old, for that matter.”
Larril avoided her gaze. “So do I,” she said. “And I’ve felt so sorry for
him. But I—I was afraid. He is so beautiful, one might think of
…
one might lapse, without meaning to. I couldn’t take the chance. I still have
another six months before my life is mine again.”
“You were bonded?”
Larril nodded, “I was born in Mountainside. My parents sold me. Before the
mayor’s new laws, they were allowed to do that.” The tension in her voice belied
her matter-of-fact words. “It was a long time before I heard the rumors that
bonding had been forbidden here, but when I did, I escaped and came back.” She
looked up, almost crying. “I didn’t break my word—” She straightened and spoke
more confidently. “I was a child, and I had no choice in the bonding. I owed no
driver my loyalty. But the city bought my papers. I do owe loyalty to the
mayor.”
Snake realized how much courage it had taken Larril to speak as she had.
“Thank you,” Snake said. “For telling me about Gabriel. None of this will go any
farther. I’m in your debt.”
“Oh, no, healer, I did not mean—”
There was something in Larril’s voice, a sudden shame, that Snake found
disturbing. She wondered if Larril thought her own motives in speaking to Snake
were suspect.
“I did mean it,” Snake said again. “Is there some way I can help you?”
Larril shook her head, once, quickly, a gesture of denial that said no to her
more than to Snake. “No one can help me, I think.”
“Tell me.”
Larril hesitated, then sat on the floor and angrily jerked up the cuff of her
pants.
Snake sat on her heels beside her.
“Oh, my gods,” Snake said.
Larril’s heel had been pierced, between the bone and the Achilles tendon. It
looked to Snake as if someone had used a hot iron on her. The scar accommodated
a small ring of a gray, crystalline material. Snake took Larril’s foot in one
hand and touched the ring. It showed no visible joining.
Snake frowned. “This was nothing but cruelty.”
“If you disobey them they have the right to mark you,” Larril said. “I’d
tried to escape before and they said they had to make me remember my place.”
Anger overcame the quietness of her voice. Snake shivered.
“Those will always bind me,” Larril said. “If it was just the scars I
wouldn’t mind so much.” She withdrew her foot from Snake’s hands. “You’ve seen
the domes in the mountains? That’s what the rings are made of.”
Snake glanced at her other heel, also scarred, also ringed. Now she
recognized the gray, translucent substance. But she had never before seen it
made into anything except the domes, which lay mysterious and inviolable in
unexpected places.
“The smith tried to cut that one,” Larril said. “When he didn’t even mark it
he was so embarrassed he broke an iron rod with one blow, just to prove he
could.” She touched the fine tough strand of her tendon, trapped within the
delicate ring. “Once the crystal hardens it’s there forever. Like the domes.
Unless you cut the tendon, and then you’re lame. Sometimes I think I could
almost stand that.” She jerked the cuff of her pants down to cover the ring. “As
you see, no one can help. It’s vanity, I know it. Soon I
will
be free
no matter what those things say.”
“I can’t help you here,” Snake said. “And it would be dangerous.”
“You mean you could do it?”
“It could be done, it could be tried, at the healers’ station.”
“Oh, healer—”
“Larril, there would be a risk.” On her own ankle she showed what would have
to be done. “We wouldn’t cut the tendon, we’d detach it. Then the ring could
come off. But you’d be in a cast for quite a while. And there’s no certainty
that the tendons would heal properly, your legs might never be as strong as they
are now. The tendons might not even re-attach at all.”
“I see
…
” Larril said, with hope and joy in her
voice, perhaps not really hearing Snake at all.
“Will you promise me one thing?”
“Yes, healer, of course.”
“Don’t decide what to do yet. Don’t decide right after your service to
Mountainside is over. Wait a few months. Be certain. Once you’re free you might
decide it doesn’t matter to you any more.”
Larril glanced up quizzically and Snake knew she would have asked how the
healer would feel in her position, but thought the question insolent.
“Will you promise?”
“Yes, healer., I promise.”
They stood up.
“Well, good night,” Snake said.
“Good night, healer.”
Snake started down the corridor.
“Healer?”
“Yes?”
Larril flung her arms around Snake and hugged her. “Thank you!” Embarrassed,
she withdrew. They both turned to go their ways, but Snake glanced back.
“Larril, where do the drivers get the rings? I never heard of anyone who
could work the dome material.”
“The city people give it to them,” Larril said. “Not enough to make anything
useful. Just the rings.”
“Thank you.”
Snake went back to bed, musing about Center, which gave chains to slavers but
refused to talk to healers.
Snake awoke before Gabriel, at the very end of night. As dawn broke, the
faint gray light illuminated the bedroom. Snake lay on her side, propped on her
elbow, and watched Gabriel sleep. He was, if that were possible, even more
beautiful asleep than awake.
Snake reached out, but stopped before she touched him. Usually she liked to
make love in the morning. But she did not want Gabriel to wake up.
Frowning, she lay back and tried to trace her reaction. Last night had not
been the most memorable sexual encounter of her life, for Gabriel was, though
not exactly clumsy, still awkward with inexperience. Yet, though she had not
completely been satisfied, neither had she found sleeping with Gabriel at all
unpleasant.
Snake forced her thoughts deeper, and found that they disturbed her. They
were all too much like fear. Certainly she did not fear Gabriel: the very idea
was ridiculous. But she had never before been with a man who could not control
his fertility. He made her uneasy, she could not deny it. Her own control was
complete; she had confidence in herself on that matter. And even if by some
freakish accident she did become pregnant, she could abort it without the
overreaction that had nearly killed Gabriel’s friend Leah. No, her uneasiness
had little basis in the reality of what could happen. It was merely the
knowledge of Gabriel’s incapability that made her hold back from him, for she
had grown up knowing her lovers would be controlled, knowing they had exactly
the same confidence in her. She could not give that confidence to Gabriel, even
though his difficulties were not his fault.
For the first time she truly understood how lonely he had been for the last
three years, how everyone must have reacted to him and how he must have felt
about himself. She sighed in sadness for him and reached out to him, stroking
his body with her fingertips, waking him gradually, leaving behind all her
hesitation and uneasiness.
Carrying her serpent-case, Snake hiked down the cliff to get Swift. Several
of her town patients needed looking at again, and she would spend the afternoon
giving vaccinations. Gabriel remained in his father’s house, packing and
preparing for his trip.
Squirrel and Swift gleamed with brushing. The stable-master, Ras, was nowhere
in sight. Snake entered Squirrel’s stall to inspect his newly shod feet. She
scratched his ears and told him aloud that he needed exercise or he would
founder. Above her, the loose hay in the loft rustled softly, but though Snake
waited, she heard nothing more.
“I’ll have to ask the stablemaster to chase you around the field,” she said
to her pony, and waited again.
“I’ll ride him for you, mistress,” the child whispered.
“How do I know you can ride?”
“I can ride.”
“Please come down.”
Slowly the child climbed through the hole in the ceiling, hung by her hands,
and dropped to Snake’s feet. She stood with her head down.
“What’s your name?”
The little girl muttered something in two syllables. Snake went down on one
knee and grasped her shoulders gently. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”
She looked up, squinting through the terrible scar. The bruise was fading.
“M-Melissa.” After the first hesitation she said the name defensively, as if
daring Snake to deny it to her. Snake wondered what she had said the first time.
“Melissa,” the child said again, lingering over the sounds.
“My name is Snake, Melissa.” Snake held out her hand and the child shook it
watchfully. “Will you ride Squirrel for me?”
“Yes.”
“He might buck a little.”
Melissa grabbed the bars of the stall door’s top half and chinned herself up.
“See him over there?”
The horse across the way was a tremendous piebald, well over seventeen hands.
Snake had noticed him before; he flattened his ears and bared his teeth whenever
anyone passed.
“I ride him,” Melissa said.
“Good lords,” Snake said in honest admiration.
“I’m the only one can,” Melissa said. “Except that other.”
“Who, Ras?”
“No,” Melissa said with contempt. “Not him. The one from the castle. With the
yellow hair.”
“Gabriel.”
“I guess. But he doesn’t come down much, so I ride his horse.” Melissa jumped
back to the floor. “He’s fun. But your pony is nice.”
In the face of the child’s competence, Snake gave no more cautions. “Thank
you, then. I’ll be glad to have someone ride him who knows what they’re doing.”
Melissa climbed to the edge of the manger, about to hide herself in the
hayloft again, before Snake could think of a way to interest her enough to talk
some more. Then Melissa turned halfway toward her. “Mistress, you tell him I
have permission?” All the confidence had crept from her voice.
“Of course I will,” Snake said.
Melissa vanished.
Snake saddled Swift and led her outside, where she encountered the
stablemaster.
“Melissa’s going to exercise Squirrel for me,” Snake told him. “I said she
could.”
“Who?”
“Melissa.”
“Someone from town?”
“Your stable-hand,” Snake said. “The redheaded child.”
“You mean Ugly?” He laughed.
Snake felt herself flushing scarlet with shock, then anger.
“How dare you taunt a child that way?”
“Taunt her? How? By telling her the truth? No one wants to look at her and
it’s better she remembers it. Has she been bothering you?”
Snake mounted her horse and looked down at him. “You use your fists on
someone nearer your size from now on.” She pressed her heels to Swift’s sides
and the mare sprang forward, leaving the barn and Ras and the castle and the
mayor behind.
The day slipped by more rapidly than Snake had expected. Hearing that a
healer was in Mountainside, people from all the valley came to her, bringing
young children for the protection she offered and older people with chronic
ailments, some of whom, like Grum with her arthritis, she could not help. Her
good fortune continued, for though she saw a few patients with bad infections,
tumors, even a few contagious diseases, no one came who was dying. The people of
Mountainside were nearly as healthy as they were beautiful.
She spent all afternoon working in a room on the ground floor of the inn
where she had intended to lodge. It was a central spot in town, and the
innkeeper made her welcome. In the evening, the last parent led the last weepy
child from the room. Wishing Pauli had been here to tell them jokes and stories,
Snake leaned back in her chair, stretching and yawning, and let herself relax,
arms still raised, her head thrown back, eyes closed. She heard the door open,
footsteps, the swish of a long garment, and smelled the warm fragrance of herb
tea.
Snake sat up as Lainie, the innkeeper, placed a tray on the table nearby.
Lainie was a handsome and pleasant woman of middle age, rather stout. She seated
herself, poured two mugs of tea, and handed one to Snake.
“Thanks.” Snake inhaled the steam.
After they sipped their tea for a few minutes, Lainie broke the silence. “I’m
glad you came,” she said. “We’ve not had a healer in Mountainside for too long.”
“I know,” Snake said. “We can’t get this far south very often.” She wondered
if Lainie knew as well as she did that it was not the distance between
Mountainside and the healers’ station that was the problem.
“If a healer were to settle here,” Lainie said, “I know the town would be
liberal in its gratitude. I’m sure the mayor will speak to you about this when
he’s better. But I’m on the council and I can assure you his proposal would be
supported.”
“Thank you, Lainie. I’ll remember that.”
“Then you might stay?”
“Me?” She stared at her tea, surprised. It had not even occurred to her that
Lainie meant the invitation to be direct. Mountainside, with its beautiful,
healthy people, was a place for a healer to settle after a lifetime of hard
work, a place to rest for someone who did not wish to teach. “No, I can’t. I’m
leaving in the morning. But when I go home I’ll tell the other healers about
your offer.”
“Are you sure you don’t wish to stay?”
“I can’t. I haven’t the seniority to accept such a position.”
“And you must leave tomorrow?”
“Yes. There’s really not much work in Mountainside. You’re all entirely too
healthy.” Snake grinned.
Lainie smiled quickly, but her voice remained serious. “If you feel you must
go because the place you are staying
…
because you need
a place more convenient to your work,” she said hesitantly, “my inn is always
open to you.”
“Thanks. If I were staying longer I’d move. I wouldn’t want to
…
abuse the mayor’s hospitality. But I really do have to go.“
She glanced at Lainie, who smiled again. They understood each other.
“Will you stay the night?” Lainie asked. “You must be tired, and it’s a long
way.”
“Oh, it’s a pleasant ride,” Snake said. “Relaxing.”
Snake rode toward the mayor’s residence through darkened streets, the
rhythmic sound of Swift’s hooves a background for her dreams. She dozed as the
mare walked on. The clouds were high and thin tonight; the waning moon cast
shadows on the stones.
Suddenly Snake heard the rasp of boot heels on pavement. Swift shied
violently to the left. Losing her balance, Snake grabbed desperately for the
pommel of the saddle and the horse’s mane, trying to pull herself back up.
Someone snatched at her shirt and hung on, dragging her down. She let go with
one hand and struck at the attacker. Her fist glanced off rough cloth. She hit
out again and connected. The man grunted and let her go. She dragged herself
onto Swift’s back and kicked the mare’s sides. Swift leaped forward. The
assailant was still holding onto the saddle. Snake could hear his boots scraping
as he tried to keep up on foot. He was pulling the saddle toward him. Suddenly
it righted with a lurch as the man lost his grip.
But a split second later Snake reined the mare in. The serpent case was gone.
Snake wheeled Swift around and galloped her after the fleeing man.
“Stop!” Snake cried. She did not want to run Swift into him, but he was not
going to obey. He could duck into an alley too narrow for a horse and rider, and
before she could get down and follow he could disappear.
Snake leaned down, grabbed his robe, and launched herself at him. They went
down hard in a tangle. He turned as he fell, and Snake hit the cobbled street,
slammed against it by his weight. Somehow she kept hold of him as he struggled
to escape her and she fought for breath. She wanted to tell him to drop the
case, but she could not yet speak. He struck out at her and she felt a sharp
pain across her forehead at the hairline. Snake hit back and they rolled and
scuffled on the street. Snake heard the case scrape on stone: she lunged and
grabbed it and so did the hooded man. As Sand rattled furiously inside, they
played tug of war like children.
“Let it go!” Snake yelled. It seemed to be getting darker and she could
hardly see. She knew she had not hit her head, she did not feel dizzy. She
blinked her eyes and the world wavered around her. “There’s nothing you can
use!”
He pulled the case toward him, moaning in desperation. For an instant Snake
yielded, then snatched the case back and freed it. She was so astonished when
the obvious trick worked that she fell backward, landed on her hip and elbow,
and yelped with the not-quite-pain of a bruised funny bone. Before she could get
up again the attacker fled down the street.
Snake climbed to her feet, holding her elbow against her side and tightly
clutching the handle of the case in her other hand. As fights went, that one had
not amounted to much. She wiped her face, blinking, and her vision cleared. She
had blood in her eyes from a scalp cut. Taking a step, she flinched; she had
bruised her right knee. She limped toward the mare, who snorted skittishly but
did not shy away. Snake patted her. She did not feel like chasing horses, or
anything else, again tonight. Wanting to let Mist and Sand out to be sure they
were all right, but knowing that would strain the mare’s tolerance beyond its
limit, Snake tied the case back on the saddle and remounted.
Snake halted the mare in front of the barn when it loomed up abruptly before
them in the darkness. She felt high and dizzy. Though she had not lost much
blood, and the attacker never hit her hard enough to give her a concussion, the
adrenalin from the fight had worn off, leaving her totally drained of energy.
She drew in her breath. “Stablemaster!”
No one answered for a moment, then, five meters above her, the loft door
rumbled open on its tracks.
“He’s not here, mistress,” Melissa said. “He sleeps up in the castle. Can I
help?”
Snake looked up. Melissa remained in the shadows, out of the moonlight.
“I hoped I wouldn’t wake you
…
”
“Mistress, what happened? You’re bleeding all over!”
“No, it’s stopped. I was in a fight. Would you mind going up the hill with
me? You can sit behind me on the way up and ride Swift back down.”
Melissa grabbed both sides of a pulley rope and lowered herself
hand-over-hand to the ground. “I’d do anything you asked me to, mistress,” she
said softly.
Snake reached down and Melissa took her hand and swung up behind her. All
children worked, in the world Snake knew, but the hand that grasped hers, a ten
year old’s hand, was as calloused and rough and hard as any adult manual
laborer’s.
Snake squeezed her legs against Swift’s sides and the mare started up the
trail. Melissa held the cantle of the saddle, an uncomfortable and awkward way
of balancing. Snake reached back and drew the child’s hands around her waist.
Melissa was as stiff and withdrawn as Gabriel, and Snake wondered if Melissa had
waited even longer than he for anyone to touch her with affection.