No Other Love (6 page)

“I felt your shock.”

“Say, rather, my surprise. There is little
that can shock an experienced telepath. I have no right to condemn
the decrees of the Elders of Oressia. But, Merin” – here Osiyar
touched her, took her arm so that Tarik or Alla, looking backward,
would think he was guiding her toward the stairs – “in spite of
your terror at the thought of being found out, in spite of your
fear of me personally, you did what was right for Herne and for the
safety of this colony. I admire and respect you for the sacrifice
you were willing to make at a possibly terrible cost to
yourself.”

“I was not so willing,” she said.

“For Herne, you were willing.” He smiled. “On
that subject also, I will be silent.”

Now he did lead her toward the stairs, his
hand still on her arm and Merin, though trained since earliest
childhood to abhor and avoid the touch of another anywhere on her
body, was comforted by Osiyar’s warm fingers. She found comfort,
too, in his promise of silence. A part of him lingered still in her
mind, assuring her he could be trusted, could be depended upon if
she should need a friend.

Friend.
She had never had a friend
before. Oressians were so separate from each other, so steeped in
stern discipline, that friendship was impossible for them. There
could be no thought that Osiyar imagined anything else in regard to
her, for his heart and mind were deeply bound to Alla. He would be
Merin’s friend, no more. But his friendship was a priceless gift.
Merin emerged from the grotto with something very close to a smile
on her usually expressionless face.

They found Herne apparently sleeping
normally. When, after much effort, they succeeded in waking him,
and after Merin had given him two large cups of qahf, he recounted
his version of the night’s events.

“It was the same as before,” Herne said,
“except that when I reached the grotto suddenly Ananka and
everything else vanished, and I was lost inside a black, whirling
tunnel, until you woke me and I found myself back here.”

“You told me that the first time you went
into the grotto the large chamber was furnished,” Tarik said. “Was
it the same this time, the draperies, the tables, the illuminated
lake?”

“Exactly the same,” Herne said.

“But it was a barren, damp chamber, unchanged
since the day when you and I explored it together!” Merin
exclaimed. “I was there, Herne. I saw you, and the light. There was
no woman, and there were no furnishings.”

“And,” Tarik added, “your body remained here,
inside the shuttlecraft.”

“Are you saying it was all an illusion?”
Herne looked so relieved that Tarik laughed out loud.

When Alla began to explain what had happened
while Herne was unconscious, Merin tried to fade into the shadows
near the cargo bay door. But, as Alla finished her detailed
account, Herne’s qahf-sharpened eyes found Merin’s.

“Thank you,” he said, “for your willingness
to help me.”

His gaze held hers for much longer than was
necessary, until Merin wisely dropped her own.

It rained during the night, briefly but
violently, leaving the shuttlecraft surrounded by mud. Dawn brought
a dull gray sky, heavy with the threat of more rain. Only Herne
ventured out to wander about the ruins. The rest of the explorers
lingered inside the shuttlecraft, drinking qahf until an urgent
call from Home brought their desultory plans for further
exploration of the city to an end.

“There is a rainstorm with severe winds
headed in your direction,” Narisa told Tarik. “We haven’t monitored
the weather on this planet long enough to be absolutely certain,
but the computer projects repetition of such storms, some of them
with monsoon-like rains. It seems to be the standard weather
pattern for both hemispheres at this time of year. We are expecting
heavy snow here at Home in three to four days. I recommend that you
return at once, while you can still travel safely. Besides, I miss
you.”

“We will leave Tathan by noon,” Tarik
replied, smiling at the personal message. “I’ll see you soon, my
love.”

“About time, too,” Herne grumbled when he was
told of the change in plans. “We should have left this place the
day after that creature first showed itself to me.”

“If you wanted to leave,” Alla told him, “you
should have said something before this. Do be careful; you are just
tossing the medical supplies around instead of putting them where
they belong. If we hit turbulent weather, we’ll have a terrible
mess to clean up after we land.”

“I don’t care.” Herne threw his favorite
diagnostic rod into the locker on top of a delicate calibrator.
With a squawk of outrage, Alla snatched up the rod so she could
rearrange the calibrator.

“What is the matter with you?” she shouted at
Herne.

Standing behind them, Merin tried to hand the
last of the medical equipment to Alla while at the same time
attempting to shrink into invisibility. Relieved when Alla snatched
the packages from her hands and began to stow them, she turned to
leave the shuttlecraft. Herne’s answer to Alla’s question stopped
Merin with one hand on the hatch.

“I think this part of the planet should be
permanently quarantined, and I’m going to tell Tarik so,” Herne
said. “Osiyar believes this Ananka creature only exists here at
Tathan, and can’t moved elsewhere. If we stay out of this area, it
shouldn’t bother us again.”

“You are the one it bothered, Herne.” Alla
shot him an amused look. “Did you have a good time with her?”

“You know, Alla,” said Herne, red-faced and
flashing a quick glance in Merin’s direction, “you have a
remarkable talent for saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong
moment.”

“If you had a woman of your own,” Alla told
him, “you wouldn’t have to resort to mysterious spirits.”

“Tarik believes it was all an illusion and so
do I,” Herne grated, not hiding his anger at her.

“Illusion is even worse,” Alla said sweetly.
“Merin, where did you put – now where did she go?”

Too upset by the conversation to listen to
any more, Merin had left the shuttlecraft to stand beside the
ruined pillar, where she stared toward the grotto while struggling
with bitter jealousy, an emotion she had never dreamed she was
capable of feeling until a few days earlier. Osiyar found her
there.

“I have wanted to speak with you in private,”
he said. “Merin, I know you are frightened and lonely. It need not
be so. If Tarik were to learn the truth about you, I think his
reaction would be far milder than you imagine. Tarik is a tolerant
man.”

“Others are not,” Merin snapped at him with
unusual spirit. “Alla, for instance. Or Herne. But it doesn’t
matter what others might think. I took an oath and I can’t break
it.”

“Circumstances change,” he said. “I was once
bound with the twin bracelets of a High Priest and sworn never to
touch a woman. Yet today my wrists are bare and I regularly make
love with Alla. I am only suggesting that you consider your present
situation and do what seems best to you.”

“I can’t change, Osiyar. You know that.”

“So stubborn.” His smile softened the effect
of the hard word. After a moment he seemed to move on to another
subject. “Have you pondered the mystery of the recorder you found
here? The only possible explanation that occurs to me seems
incredible. Yet I, of all men, know how easily the impossible can
become reasonable and simple.”

It was only much later that Merin realized he
was still talking about her, and it would take terrifying
alterations in her life before she could comprehend that Osiyar had
understood the mystery of the recorder all along.

* * * * *

The return trip northward was smooth and
uneventful, though from the high altitude at which they flew the
travelers could see the heavy clouds gathering along the
northwestern horizon, forerunners of the expected snowstorm. When
the shuttlecraft had landed at Home, near the round white building
set on an island in a lake, Merin watched Tarik greet his wife with
a kiss and a close embrace. To her surprise, for the first time in
her experience among these overly demonstrative non-Oressians, she
was not disgusted by the sight of openly expressed emotion.
Pondering the meaning of this change in her sensitivity, she took
the path toward the center of the island, to the headquarters
building. Herne fell into step beside her.

“Come to surgery later,” he said, “and I’ll
do the final repair on your cheek.”

“Thank you, no.” To get away from him, Merin
hurried into the building, to the room she shared with Carlis, one
of the communication officers. Carlis wasn’t there. Grateful for
the privacy, Merin began to unpack. She was not quite finished when
there was a tap on the door. Without waiting for her permission,
Herne entered.

“I know it’s only a small scar,” he said,
“but I would like to remove it.”

“I said no.”

“How have I offended you?” When she did not
answer, Herne said, “You know Tarik wants all of us to get along
together. There are too few of us to allow the luxury of
quarrels.”

“You are the one who quarrels most,” she
said. “With Alla on subjects best not discussed at all, with Tarik
now and then, and frequently with Osiyar.”

“You don’t seem to understand the distinction
between an honest difference of opinion among friends and a real
fight.”

“I do not quarrel,” she said.

“No, you just drift around the edges of any
gathering, saying nothing, contributing no opinions. You display no
emotion, except for that one time when you were angry with me. It’s
not healthy to repress your emotions so rigidly.”

“I am what I am,” she said. “I cannot
change.”

“You are an intelligent human being,” he told
her. “Of course you can change. Merin, I would like to be your
friend.”

Even with her complete lack of experience
with men, Merin understood that what Herne was offering would be
something very different from Osiyar’s friendship. He proved the
truth of her assumptions at once. She should have been watching him
more carefully. If she had, she might have prevented him from
tilting her chin upward and planting his mouth over hers. If she
had been prepared she could have kept her lips pressed tightly
together and endured the pressure of his mouth until he realized
there was nothing in her to give him any pleasure. But she was not
prepared. Her lips were half open on an intake of breath and his
tongue slid past them to touch the tip of her own.

“No!” He was not holding her, so it was easy
enough to pull her chin from his fingers and spring backward. “I
warned you not to touch me. Go away!”

“Why are you so afraid?”

“If you want a woman,” she said coldly,
recalling his verbal skirmish with Alla while they were still at
Tathan, “go to your chamber and dream of Ananka.”

She managed to control her trembling by
keeping her eyes fixed on the floor and standing perfectly still
while he stared at her for a long, silent moment. Finally, when the
tension between them had stretched out until she thought she would
begin to scream, he left her, closing the door after himself with
quiet, deliberate care.

She sprang at the door, to seal it shut so he
could not return and so no one else could disturb her. By then she
was so weakened by the unwelcome emotions raging through her that
she could no longer stand. She started toward her bed, but did not
reach it. She sank onto her knees, her head resting on the corner
of the mattress. And then, for the first time in her twenty-five
years of totally disciplined life, Merin gave way to tears.

* * * * *

Herne stalked out of Merin’s chamber, across
the central room of headquarters, and through the main door with a
face so set and grim that even Gaidar the Cetan warrior did not
dare to speak to him. He knew Alla expected him in surgery, to help
her unpack their equipment and afterward to take inventory of the
medical supplies left on the shuttlecraft. He had reports to feed
into the computer, the medical records made during his absence to
read, the duty roster to check, his personal unpacking to do. All
of that would have to wait until he had calmed himself enough to
think and speak rationally.

He avoided the path that led to the beach
where the shuttlecraft sat, knowing he would find people there
cleaning and refueling the ship. He did not want to talk to anyone.
He wanted privacy, so he headed for the other side of the island,
moving with long, angry strides until he reached the shore. Drawing
a deep breath, he rested one foot on a rock, crossed his arms on
his knee, and let his mind go blank for a while.

The scene before him almost always brought
peace to his chronically troubled spirit. The cold western wind was
whipping up waves on the lake, sending spray and foam far up the
beach. In the distance rose the single snowcapped peak that Tarik
had named Mount Narisa. Nearer was the forest that grew right down
to the edge of the lake. When he had left for Tathan the trees were
flaming with brilliant shades of autumn reds and golds, but now
they were bare. Gray or black branches lifted toward the cloudy
sky, their wind-driven rustles and creakings sounding like prayers
for protection against the bitter winter still to come. Herne
wished he could raise his own arms and shout out his anguish.

He had never in his life been happy for more
than a few moments at a time. His native Sibirna had demanded
toughness and too-frequent violence from anyone who wanted to
survive there. Herne had been forced to hide the gentler part of
his nature, having learned early that no one would understand his
feelings. His attempts at disguise had not always been successful,
most notably in the incident with his dying aunt and, a year before
that, with a girl he had cared for who had called him weak and
cowardly when he did not beat her as she had passionately
hoped.