Mim would be honored in the house and exempt from duties for the next few days, after which time she would again take her share with Ptas and Aimu; she sat now and accepted the attentions and the compliments and the good wishes,—Mim, who had never expected to be more than a minor concubine to the lord of Elas, accepted with private vows and scant legitimacy—now she was the center of everything.
It was her hour.
Kurt begrudged her none of it, even the nemet humor. He looked down at her and saw her face alight with pride and happiness—and love, which she would have given with lesser vows had he insisted; and he smiled back and pressed her hand, which the others kindly did not elect to make joke of at that moment.
10
Ten days passed before the outside world intruded again into the house of Elas.
It came in the person of Bel t’Osanef u Han, who arrived, escorted by Mim, in the garden at the rear of the house, where Kta was instructing Kurt in the art of the ypan,the narrow curved longsword that was the Indras’ favorite weapon and chief sport.
Kurt saw Bel come into the garden and turned his blade and held it in both hands to signal halt. Kta checked himself in mid-strike, and turned his head to see the reason of the pause. Then with the elaborate ritual that governed the friendly use of these edged weapons, Kta touched his left hand to his sword and bowed, which Kurt returned. The nemet believed such ritual was necessary to maintain balance of soul between friends who contended in sport, and distrusted the blades. In the houses of the Families resided the ypai-sulim,the Great Weapons which had been dedicated in awful ceremony to the house Guardians and bathed in blood. These were never drawn unless a man had determined to kill or to die, and could not be sheathed again until they had taken a life. Even these light foils must be handled carefully, lest the ever-watchful house spirits mistake someone’s intent and cause blood to be drawn.
And once it had been death to the Sufaki to touch these lesser weapons, or even to look at the ypai-sulimwhere they hung at rest, so that fencing was an art the Sufaki had never employed: they were skilled with the spear and the bow—distance-weapons.
Bel waited at a respectful distance until the weapons were safely sheathed and laid aside, and then came forward and bowed.
“My lords,” said Mim, “shall I bring tea?”
“Do so, Mim, please,” said Kta. “Bel, my soon-to-be brother—”
“Kta,” said Bel. “My business is somewhat urgent.”
“Sit then,” said Kta, puzzled. There were several stone benches about the garden. They took those nearest.
Then Aimu came from the house. She bowed modestly to her brother. “Bel,” she said then, “you come into Elas without at least sending me greetings? What is the matter?”
“Kta,” said Bel, “permission for your sister to sit with us.”
“Granted,” said Kta, a murmured formality, as thoughtless as “thank you.” Aimu sank down on the seat near them. There were no further words. Tea had been asked; Bel’s mood was distraught. There was no discussion proper until it had come, and it was not long. Mim brought it on a tray, a full service with extra cups.
Aimu rose up and helped her serve, and then both ladies settled on the same bench while the first several sips that courtesy demanded were drunk in silence and with appreciation.
“My friend Bel,” said Kta, when ritual was satisfied, “is it unhappiness or anger or need that has brought you to this house?”
“May the spirits of our houses be at peace,” said Bel. “I am here now because I trust you above all others save those born in Osanef. I am afraid there is going to be bloodshed in Nephane.”
“T’Tefur,” exclaimed Aimu with great bitterness.
“I beg you, Aimu, hear me to the end before you stop me.”
“We listen,” said Kta, “but, Bel, I suddenly fear this is a matter best discussed between our fathers.”
“Our fathers’ concern must be with Tlekef; Shan t’Tefur is beneath their notice—but he is the dangerous one, much more than Tlekef. Shan and I—we were friends. You know that. And you must realize how hard it is for me to come now to an Indras house and say what I am going to say. I am trusting you with my life.”
“Bel,” said Aimu in distress, “Elas will defend you.”
“She is right,” said Kta, “but Kurt—may not wish to hear this.”
Kurt gathered himself to leave: it was Bel’s willingness to have him stay that Kta questioned; he had been long enough in Elas to understand nemet subtleties. It was expected of Bel to demur.
“He must stay,” said Bel, with more feeling than courtesy demanded. “He is involved.”
Kurt settled down again, but Bel remained silent a time thereafter, staring fixedly at his own hands.
“Kta,” he said finally, “I must speak now as Sufaki. There was a time, you know, when we ruled this land from the rock of Nephane to the Tamur and inland to the heart of Chteftikan and east to the Gray Sea. Nothing can ever bring back those days; we realize that. You have taken from us our land, our gods, our language, our customs,—you accept us as brothers only when we look like you and talk like you, and you despise us for savages when we are different.—It is true, Kta: look at me. Here am I, born a prince of the Osanef, and I cut my hair and wear Indras robes and speak with the clear round tones of Indresul, like a good civilized man, and I am accepted. Shan is braver. He does what many of us would do if we did not find life so comfortable on your terms. But Elas taught him a lesson I did not learn.”
“He left us in anger. I have not forgotten the day. But you stayed.”
“I was eleven; Shan was twelve. At that time we thought it a great thing—to be friends to an Indras, to be asked beneath the roof of one of the Great Families, to mingle with the Indras. I had come many times; but this day I brought Shan with me, and Ian t’Ilev chanced to be your guest also that day. Ian made it clear enough that he thought our manners quaint. Shan left on the instant; you prevented me, and persuaded me to stay, for we were closer friends, and longer friends. And from that day Shan t’Tefur and I had in more than that sense gone our separate ways. I could not call him back. The next day when I met him I tried to convince him to go back to you and speak with you,—but he would not. He struck me in the face and cursed me from him, and said that Osanef was fit for nothing but to be servant to the Indras—he said it in cruder words—and that he would not. He has not ceased to despise me.”
“It was not well done,” said Kta. “I had bitter words with Ian over the matter, until he came to a better understanding of courtesy, and my father went to Ilev’s father. I assure you it was done. I did not tell you so; there never seemed a moment apt for it.”
“Kta,—if I had been Indras, would you have found a moment apt for it?”
Kta gave back a little, his face sobered and troubled. “Bel, if you were Indras, your father would have come to Elas in anger and I would have been dealt with by mine—most harshly. I did not think it mattered, since your customs are different. But times are changing. You will become marriage-kin to Elas. Can you doubt that you would have justice from us?”
“I do not question your friendship,” he said, and looked at Aimu. “Times change, when a Sufaki can marry an Indras, where once Sufaki were not admitted to an Indras rhmeiwhere they could meet the daughters of a Family. But there are still limitations, friend Kta. We try to be businessmen and we are constantly outmaneuvered and outbid by the combines of wealthy Indras houses; information passes from hearth to hearth along lines of communication we do not share. When we go to sea, we sail under Indras captains, as I do for you, my friend,—because we have not the wealth to maintain warships as a rule,—seldom ever merchantmen. A man like Shan, that makes himself different, who wears the jafikn,who wears the Robes of Color, who keeps his accent—you ridicule him with secret smiles, for what was once unquestioned honor to a man of our people. There is so little left to us of what we were. Do you know, Kta, after all these years,—that I am not really Sufaki? Is that a surprise to you? You have ruined us so completely that you do not even know our real name. The people of this coast are Sufaki, the ancient name of this province when we ruled it, but the house of Osanef and the house of Tefur are Chteftik, from the old capital. And my name, despite the way I have corrupted it to please Indras tongues, is not Bel t’Osanef u Han. It is Hanu Balaket Osanef, and nine hundred years ago we rivaled the Insu dynasty for power in Chteftikan. A thousand years ago, when you were struggling colonists, we were kings, and no man would dare approach us on his feet. Now I change my name to show I am civilized, and bear with you when your cultured accent mispronounces it. Kta, Kta, I am not bitter with you. I tell you these things so that you will understand, because I know that Elas is one Indras house who might listen. You Indras are not trusted. There is talk of some secret accommodation you may have made with your kinsmen of Indresul,—talk that all your vowing war is empty, that you only do this like fisherman at a market, to increase the price in your bargain with Indresul.”