{ASS} Delta: A Question of Honour 1/2 (MF)

[Delta]

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 It is not to be published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,
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 (c) 1995
by Delta
Chapter 1

The man stared at the dry creek bed with a mixture of loathing
and relief. Here it had started, here it would end. After looking
carefully in both directions he stepped out and crossed the cracked,
baked mud.
It was done. His shoulders slumped, betraying the exhaustion
which threatened to overcome him. He breathed deeply, preparing
himself for the hard slog to the spring.
It had been difficult, avoiding the waterholes during his
journey through the wasteland, yet he had done it willingly,
gladly. None would know of his leaving, all would assume that the
one which he had been had met some untimely, or perhaps timely, end.
None would suspect, would dream, that he had done what most
considered impossible. And most important of all, none would even
think to look for him.
He would have to think of a new name, he decided. The one he
had before first crossing the creek bed would no longer be appropriate.
That one, innocent in the ways of men, had died soon after the crossing,
leaving the one whose name was best forgotten. The one whose name
was best forgotten had died as well. It had been a lingering death,
or perhaps an awakening - both portended the same. Now there was only
the man, the past burned out of him by the sun, the haunted dreams
only ghosts of what they had been. Perhaps they would come no more.
He tried to laugh, but no sound came from his parched throat.
He needed water. He recognized the danger signs all too well.
He could no longer sweat. The name could wait, his thirst could not.
The man took a step, then another one. He did not look back. With
each step he could feel the ghost of the one whose name was best
forgotten ease away, further and further, until it was only a bad
memory.

The woman screamed and looked wildly about her for the escape
which was not there. Every fiber of her being radiated the terror,
the hopelessness of her position. Every fiber of her being lied.
Her assailant stood back and laughed as he looked at her proud
breasts which peeked from the ruins of her torn blouse. Fine, lightly
tanned breasts which heaved as she gulped in huge draughts of air;
fine breasts, a little more than a handful, which would feel so good
squashed against his chest. She could read it in his eyes, that and
the confidence of a man in a situation traveling a familiar path.
He would not guess until too late, until either the knife
attached to her forearm or the one in her boot slipped between his
ribs, that he had been led along the path like the tulk he was. He
had already replaced his hand weapon in its holster. He was supremely
confident.
She had thought that all of the raiders had left after the sack
of the caravan. Even so she had taken no chances and hid her charges
well, only occasionally venturing out for water. For the past two
days she had suspected that someone was hunting them and had acted
accordingly. It had done her no good, for he had caught her.
Yet it was his loss and her good fortune, for he had a pack
animal with him, loaded with goods from the sack of the caravan. They
would come in handy in the crossing of the wasteland. Yes, the gods
had been good. Now all she had to do was to lure him into her arms.
The man spoke in his foreign tongue. She stared blankly at him,
breasts still heaving. He licked his lips, then spoke in her language.
"No where to run, tulkwa." She looked down at the insult so he
wouldn't catch the anger in her eyes. "Why not just do yourself a
favour? Make me angry and you'll regret it."
It was time to answer. "I'll do anything you say if you promise
not to hurt me." Her body spoke of a defeated being, her voice soft
and breaking. She looked up at him, through her eyebrows. Did he
really think his predatious smile was calming?
"That's better. You and me can become good friends. Do as I
say and you won't be hurt," he lied.
She nodded minutely. It wouldn't be long now. Then movement
caught her eye and her stomach tightened. The tulk had a partner,
one who had, no doubt, heard her scream and was coming to join the
fun. Even at this distance she could see he had a shoulder weapon.
If she killed this one, she herself would be killed and then what
of the others? Her shoulders slumped. She would have to ride it
out, take what they wanted to dish out and wait for her opportunity.
It would come eventually, especially if she made it worth their
while to keep her alive, and she could do that.
The hand which grabbed her forearm shocked her back to reality.
Damn! He had closed his hand right over the sheathed knife and had
jumped back as he grabbed for his weapon. His eyes were narrow,
angry.
"Tulkwa! Did you think you could slip it through my ribs as
I took you?" He stepped back another pace. "Now you've made me
angry. It's going to be a long day for you." He spat. "Take it
off - slowly and carefully." His weapon was pointed at the middle
of her body - not a chance he would miss. "What's your name, tulkwa?"
"Takene," she answered defiantly, as she unstrapped the knife
and dropped it on the ground.
"Takene," he rolled the name over his tongue. "I prefer Tulkwa.
So, Tulkwa," he sneered, "don't stop there, keep going. Undress and
show me how pretty my little Tulkwa is." He laughed as she glared
at him.
The dirty, torn, tan blouse came off easily, exposing her breasts
to him. Nice thick nipples perched on the tips, pointing slightly
upwards. He licked his lips once more, but the weapon didn't waver
in the slightest.
"Pinch them," he grinned wickedly. She hesitated but, when she
saw his finger tightening on the trigger, gave in and brought her
hands up. She pinched her nipples and rubbed them, bringing them
out to their full glory. She could see he was excited by it, the
bulge in his pants growing. Behind him, his partner was still
approaching, not hurrying, sure there would be plenty left for him.
"Very pretty, little Tulkwa," he sneered, "now the boots -
slowly." She cursed to herself and pulled up the pantsleg, turning
slightly to hide the knife. Her effort failed, and the brute's
eyes narrowed further. "Toss it carefully this way," he ordered and
she complied. "It's going to be a rough afternoon for you," he
promised.
The boots and socks came off and the brute grinned as she
hesitated once more. His grin widened as she began to strip off
her pants without his having to say anything. There was a new
admiration in his eyes and she knew what he was seeing. Her body
was lithe and willowy. Long shapely legs moved into softly rounded
hips. Her flat belly, promising delights within, melded smoothly
into her small waist and narrow chest. The breasts, mounted high
on that chest, appearing larger than they were, nicely contoured,
tipped with the now hard nipples. Her graceful neck coursed upwards
to her angular face with the prominent cheekbones; her cool grey eyes,
large and captivating, stared at him calmly, as her long black hair,
loosely tied behind, moved in the breeze.
She could see him calculating the risks. Have her, then kill
her and be safe, or risk the journey with a dangerous woman for the
high price she would surely bring. She moved slightly, sensuously,
to shift the odds a little in her favour. His eyes lit up at the
movement and again his tongue came out to wet his lips as she began
peeling off her undergarment. The small triangle of short black
hair pointed its way to paradise.
"Play with yourself," he ordered.
Takene flushed. He was going to derive the maximum of
satisfaction from her, she knew. Humiliation was just a part of
it. She moved one hand down to the junction of her legs and began
stroking softly, while the other hand returned to stroke her
nipples. The brute grinned. It was difficult for her to lubricate,
there was nothing exciting at all about her situation, yet she
knew it would be to her advantage. If she was going to be taken,
she might as well not suffer the pain of dry intercourse.
Takene cast her thoughts back, to other, better times, to her
man, before he had been killed. The gentle sweep of his hand
across her body had always excited her, thrilled her with the
knowledge of what was to come. Such a gentle, loving man. She
felt the juices beginning to flow and groaned as her now moistened
finger found her clit.
The brute moved forward, then stopped. "The others. Get them
out here."
"What others?" she questioned, her hopes dashed, her mind jerked
back to the present.
"Don't play with me, or I'll cripple you, find them, then come
back to have my pleasure." There was no joking, no subtlety in the
man. He would do exactly as he said, and then there would be no
chance at all.
"Iro, Lere, come out," she called.
Two youngsters appeared off to her right. The boy was in early,
the girl in late, adolescence. The brute saw that they were no threat,
and smiled. His partner, approaching from her left, had not seen the
youngsters yet. When he did, the girl, Iro, would reap the benefit
of his attention. Takene grimaced. Still, it was better than death,
she shrugged to herself. At least this way there was still a chance.
The body and mind would repair themselves in time.
Takene wondered at her ice-cold appraisal of the situation.
There was no emotion in it, none at all. It was unlike her, yet
the situation was unlike any she had ever faced, as well.
"Girl, watch carefully," the brute ordered. "Watch how the
Tulkwa does this, and learn. Learn well or you'll be beaten." He
turned his attention to Takene and leered at her. "You know what's
next."
Takene held herself tight inside as he undid his pants and his
member, large, thick and erect, sprang loose. He would want her to
crawl to him so she sank down to her knees. "Satisfy me enough and
the young one won't get it," he paused judiciously, "until tomorrow,"
he amended.
Takene contemplated fixing him, biting down hard, but the
weapon he pointed at Iro, as well as his partner, now mere meters
away, convinced her to play the game. She closed her eyes and
moistened her lips. She prayed she wouldn't gag.
Her eyes flew open at the sharp sound.

The scream caught the attention of the man. It meant people.
People were a danger, yet people meant water as well. He turned
and headed in the direction of the scream. His pack was heavy on
his back but he did not remove it. Once he put it down it was
unlikely that he would be able to pick it up once more, so he
stumbled on, like an automaton.
The uphill slope would have annoyed him before, now it simply
existed. Nothing was easy. It was just one more test. One more
test of the many he had taken in the journey. A rock rolled under
his foot and he caught himself before he fell. He dared not fall.
Looking up, he saw them across the field. The man and the
woman. The words which reached him he didn't understand. The
action he understood all too well. It was dangerous, what he was
doing. He knew this, but his body continued moving, as if the mind
had nothing to do with its functions.
The man considered his options. His thoughts came slowly.
He knew, somehow, what the ones before him, the ones who had died,
would have done. Yet he was no longer them. He was a new man,
born of the trek. What would this new man do?
The woman removed her clothes. She was beautiful, he understood,
yet the understanding meant nothing. Not knowing why, he wanted to
hurry, yet it seemed that his body understood only one pace. It was
enough. Still he knew not what he was going to do. This surprised
him, for he had always been quick.
No, he decided, it should be no surprise. A new man had nothing
to guide, to shape him. The decision must be reached in the fullness
of time.
The woman was naked, her assailant growling something at her.
The assailant's focus changed, weapon moved; there were others. The
others, who he could not see, did nothing. The decision was still
his to make. The woman sank to her knees to pleasure her assailant.
The man knew he would have to decide soon.
The sharp sound of his weapon startled the man, who had not
realized he had drawn it, had not felt his hand move. So, he thought,
*that* was the decision. He considered it a moment, as the assailant
fell over dead. A good decision, he concluded.

Takene was stunned by the turn of events and scrambled to her
feet, her eyes darting from the man with the weapon to her dead
assailant's weapon lying on the ground before her. Her heart was
pounding and she dismissed the notion. She wouldn't have a chance.
She was now in deep trouble.
One look at the man's flat emotionless eyes had convinced
her of that. This man was infinitely more dangerous than his
predecessor. He was a casual killer. She backed up as he advanced,
her hands trembling with a fear the other had not engendered in her.
The killer recovered the fallen weapon and her knives. He mouthed
something at her, no sound coming forth. She stared at him blankly.
His eyes turned to stone. He pointed the way the children had gone,
then pointed at the ground in front of her. Resigned, she called
the children forth once more.
The killer stood like a rock, his wide brimmed hat shading the
flat, lifeless eyes. His face, beard, clothes, everything, were
coated with a thick layer of dust. Tension sang throughout his
body.
The children appeared and the killer's weapons swung to
cover them. He motioned them to her and she took them and placed
her body between them and the killer.
Suddenly he seemed to sway, and Takene realized that the man
was exhausted. Her eyes brightened. There was still a chance.
"You look tired, my friend," her voice shook a little. "Why
don't you sit down?" She motioned to a large rock. He didn't
appear to understand - or did he? The killer took a few slow
careful steps towards the rock, and Takene's eyes went wide with
surprise.

She was obviously the children's guardian, the thought slowly
forced its way into his mind. She would need her weapons. He
carefully placed the dead man's weapon and the woman's knives down
on the rock. His own weapon was a dead weight in his hand, so he
returned it to its holster.
He looked around and spotted the pack animal. She would need
that, too, he decided, but the canteen of water would be his. He
stumbled as he walked towards the animal. He knew the woman would
be able to pick up the weapon and kill him. He wondered if she
would do that.
The thought interested him. That, too, was an acceptable
outcome. He reached the animal and took up the canteen, turning
as he did to see what the woman was doing, whether he would be
able to drink before dying.
The woman was putting her clothes back on. He raised the
canteen to his cracked lips and filled his mouth with water. He
desperately wanted to swallow, but his throat was too dry, the
pain would be too great. Slowly a trickle of water made its
way down his throat and at long last he swallowed. He followed
that with another mouthful, then replaced the top.
She would need a canteen, he decided, and left his empty one
on the animal. He turned and made his way in the direction of
the spring, wondering, once more, if she would shoot.
Another sip of water.
He was so tired, so incredibly tired. The confrontation had
taken much more out of him than he would have thought. Another
swallow. So damned tired.
He was falling. She had shot him after all. Acceptable.

As the killer walked away, Takene stared at the rock and the
weapons. Was he playing with her? Would she reach the rock only
to see him turn and fire? She decided not to take the chance and
began dressing herself.
"Damn." She cursed in a low voice. He was going to the
pack animal. They would need it. She would have to hunt him down
and retrieve it. She was just slipping back into her torn blouse
when he lifted the canteen and turned. He took a long time in
swallowing.
It was a day for surprises, she thought, as he unslung his
own canteen, hung it on the animal and started to walk off. She
stepped to the rock, motioning the children to take cover and
picked up the weapon.
The killer fell and did not move.
"Did you shoot him, Guardian?" Lere wanted to know.
"Hush, Lere. Of course not. He only fell." Takene was
busy replacing her knives in their sheaths.
"Then why isn't he getting up?"
"Hush, Lere." But Takene was wondering the same thing.
"Are we going to help him?" Iro asked.
"Help him?" Takene was astonished.
"He helped us," Iro defended her position.
Takene thought about it. Yes, he had. The only time he had
been threatening was when he had ordered the children out. As soon
as he had seen they were only children, he had relaxed, left her
her weapons and left. A possibility occurred to her.
"Yes, Iro, we will help him."

The man lay on the sweet grasses, under the shade of the tree,
breathing shallowly. It had been a struggle to heave him up on
the animal to get him here. Takene and Iro had fallen with him
when they pulled him off. Now they rested.
Takene loosened the strap and pulled off the wide-brimmed hat.
Longish sandy hair covered his head and was plastered, in places, to
his dust caked face. He reeked of stale sweat. He would have to be
cleaned up, she decided.
"Iro, help me get his clothes off. Lere, fetch water and soap.
If we're going to be with him any length of time, at least we shouldn't
have to put up with the smell," she explained to the children.
Children. It was interesting that she still thought of Iro as
such. She was a young woman now, just of marriageable age. Small
wonder that the brute had smiled when he saw her. Iro would bring
a good price in the pleasure camps as well.
Together they struggled and removed the man's pack. His shirt
followed. Iro gasped as she looked at the scarred torso. This one
had suffered much. She wondered if she had been right to want to
help him. What could such a one be capable of?
Takene looked upon the scars as a good sign. This one would
be capable, she thought. He would be worth the effort if he agreed.
If he did not, well, he had saved them so they owed him this little.
His boots were a struggle, but his pants came off easily. He
had lost much weight, most of it probably water. Iro looked curiously
at his genitals. The only male member she had seen previously had
been that of the dead man. How could a woman take such a huge
thing inside herself she wondered. This one, limp and small in
comparison, was not nearly so frightening.
Takene smiled to herself as she saw Iro's interest. Learn well,
young one.
"Oh, Lere, thank-you. Now keep a good look-out while we wash
the man." Takene and Iro slowly removed the dust and grime of the
trek, revealing the man beneath. He had a strong face, Takene saw,
a firm jaw under the thick beard, straight nose, good forehead. His
teeth were clean and well kept. The beard would have to be shortened.
In his pack they found nothing to identify him. Extra clothes,
dried rations, and his kit. Taking his scissors, Takene trimmed the
beard and mustache. She froze. Her heart began beating, pounding
within her chest. She recognized the face. Any from Slindaria would.
What to do? She could slit his throat here, now, yet that would
not get her to Slindaria.
Something else occurred to her. What was he doing here? How
did he get here? Such a one as he would have had no trouble getting
water - why was he in such a condition? No, slitting his throat would
not get her and her charges to Slindaria. This man could. If handled
correctly, this man could do it. If he would not, she might have
to kill him after all. Who knew what such a one would do?
The beard would have to go. She took out the razor.

The sky was darkening and the man lay on the bed of grasses.
They had placed a ground-sheet over the grasses and a light blanket
covered the man. Takene made certain her charges were safe in
their beds then returned to the man. Iro had asked what she was
doing.
"Procuring passage," was her answer. It didn't satisfy Iro,
but that didn't worry Takene. Better, perhaps, she did not know.
Takene undressed completely and crawled under the blanket with
the man. She turned him gently onto his side then snuggled back
into his chest, pulling his arm over her and resting it on her
breast. Her revulsion at being with such a one would have to be
contained. It was all part of the plan. Now to sleep.
The man shifted, moving his upper leg forward, nestling it
over her lower leg. Takene's eyes flicked open. It had been
too long since she had slept with a man, and now her legs were
open, her body still remembering the abbreviated pleasure of
the early afternoon and desiring more. She moved her hand down
to caress herself.
The breath on the back of her neck warmed her, excited her,
as her finger traced the outline of her lips, felt them engorge
with blood. Mmm. Yes, she was lubricating, feeling the heat
both within and from the body behind her. Too long, it had been
too long.
Holding his hand against her breast with one hand, the other
stroked ever so softly over the lips, until she felt the moisture.
A finger dipped inside and she stifled her moan, even as she shivered.
The man's arm tightened about her in reflex, cupping her breast,
driving her on upwards. Desperately trying, and failing, to keep her
breathing even, Takene found and stroked her clit, gasping as the
bolts of white lightning tore through her insides, making the
connection between nipples and clit, weaving all the little energies
of her body together.
Her pulse was racing, her heart hammering, and she wondered
that it did not wake him. His soft breath on her neck inflamed her
further and she knew she could not stop. Her finger circled ever
faster, her mind conscious only of the pleasure, encouraging the
spiral up to . . . her breath caught as her body tensed and held
on the edge. Pressing her fingers into her soft folds, Takene jerked
as the great release coursed through her body, alternately tensing
and relaxing it, until finally she lay quiet, totally drained.
Sleep followed, sleep with its beautiful dreams which she would
not remember upon awakening.

A QUESTION OF HONOUR
Chapter 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.

A Question of Honour by delta@nym . alias . net
[Author's note: If you have paid anything, in any way, for the
right to read this story, my copyright has been violated.]

A QUESTION OF HONOUR
Chapter 3

Riltan awoke in a cold sweat, sitting upright, his heart
hammering in his chest. He reached over for his canteen, noting
that his hand was trembling. 'Trembling', he thought, wryly
amused, 'shaking' was closer to the truth. He took a long pull
of water, trying to calm his mind and body.
The dreams were back - with a vengeance. The screams still
echoed through his mind as his heart rate slowly returned to
near-normal. He looked up to the sky. The great moon was
setting, the horizon lighting with the day to come. He took
a shuddering breath.
In the two nights since Takene and Iro had left, he had
been awakened by the dreams thrice. He would never be rid of
them, he feared. The last time he had awakened the boy with
his cries as he tried to escape the dream.
Riltan looked over to see Lere still sleeping - the sleep
of the innocent, he thought. His gaze wandered around the camp,
noting that everything was in its place.
The new camp location was definitely an improvement, Riltan
decided. It was more defensible, more difficult to spot and had
good access to water.
The damp night smells still hung heavy in the air. It
continued to surprise him that here, so close to the dry
wastelands, there was so much moisture in the air. Not that
he was complaining, he thought, yet it was surprising.
He shrugged into his shirt and fastened his boots. It
would be a waste of time to try to return to sleep, and there
was much to do. He began preparing breakfast for himself and
the boy. It would be a light breakfast today, and today they
must go looking for food as well. Once Takene had returned,
he would make the trip to the sacked Caravan. It was likely
that there would be emergency rations yet untouched. He would
go alone. Though it had been some time since the sack, it would
yet be a grizzly sight and the boy could do without that.
The boy. His gaze returned to Lere, sleeping quietly,
his face relaxed and soft in the early morning light. He was
a good boy, eager to learn. He had picked up signing rapidly
and had a good memory for the signs he'd learned.
His description of how they had escaped the carnage was
imaginative. They had been lucky to have been picking berries
at the time of the attack. Yes, he'd been imaginative, inventing
his own signs as he went. The telling of the tale had disturbed
Lere, however, and he'd been quiet for a time after that. Riltan
had brought him out of his thoughts with a little lesson.
Signing was easier than spoken language, Riltan thought.
There was little of the convoluted grammar to be found. It was
a language shorthand. It had the added advantage that he didn't
have to speak. In the past two days he hadn't spoken more than
a score of words. He found he liked that - not speaking.
His eyes focused again and he found the boy was looking at
him.
<Good Morning> he signed. <Good Sleep?>
<Yes> Lere replied. <Food Soon?>
<Soon>
Lere smiled at him and arose. He headed for the temporary
latrine which Riltan had constructed.

Breakfast finished, they cleaned up. Riltan replaced his
tooth-brush in its holder and turned to Lere.
<Women return today. Not-know camp move. We go - wait.>
Lere nodded. He ran through his vocabulary, questioning a
few signs. He smiled as Riltan nodded solemnly, recognizing his
effort. What pleased him most, was that now he knew something
which Iro didn't. It would sure surprise her.
Together the man and the boy slipped out of the new camp and
headed for the old one, the man wary and cautious, the boy struggling
to contain his exuberance. Behind them, on its lead, came the
pack animal.
Riltan was amazed by the boy's resilience. Perhaps it was
that he simply didn't realize the seriousness of the situation he
was in. It was all still an adventure, with safety no further away
than his Guardian - or Riltan, himself.
Riltan stopped short, causing the boy to look at him
questioningly. He shrugged and stepped out again. He would have
to watch himself, he thought. He would be leaving soon. It would
not do to have the boy become dependent upon him. That thought
suppressed the flip side - it would not do for him to grow close
to the boy.

Takene and Iro emerged from the brush and Lere moved forward
to meet them. He was stopped short by Riltan's hand on his shoulder.
<What?> His eyebrows went up in the question sign.
<Wait. Look.>
Lere obeyed. He watched Takene and Iro come to a halt as they
noticed that the camp was no longer where it had been. Riltan
tapped him on the shoulder.
<Not look-at women. Look beyond.>
Lere had not yet seen the sign for 'beyond', yet he got the idea
and understanding lit his face. He nodded. They were watching to
see if anyone was following the women before they made their presence
known. That is why they waited here instead of at the abandoned
campsite. Here one could see more, better.
When Takene and Iro had covered most of the distance to the
old campsite, Riltan motioned Lere to move forward a bit and wave.
He did so, realizing that his position would allow only Takene and
Iro to see him. He looked back at Riltan with respect and nodded.

Takene spotted Lere when he waved and relief washed over her.
She stopped short, causing Iro to bump into her. She gave a small
signal with her hand to say she saw him.
"What is it, Takene?" Iro was worried, Lere and Riltan should
have been there waiting for them. What had happened?
"Look at the campsite," Takene cautioned. "Lere just waved
off to the left. Don't look at him. They are watching our backs
for us."
"Why did they move the camp?" Iro wanted to know, as they
started forward again.
"I don't know. It was Riltan's doing, of course. He knows
these things - maybe he found a better site, maybe someone else
found this one and they had to move." Takene kept walking
without looking at Lere again. She loosened her weapon in
its holster. "We'll circle round to meet them."

"Is there trouble, Lere?" Takene asked, the moment they came
together.
"No, Guardian. We were being careful."
At those words the tension began to drain out of Takene. She had
not noticed it until it loosed its grip on her. "Good. And you
moved the camp to a better location?"
"Riltan thought this place was too open, Guardian." Lere
was struggling to understand the discrepancy between Takene's calm
voice and tense body language.
Takene turned to Riltan, who stood calmly by, watching everything
understanding more from the way she moved than from any words she
could say.
"And how are you, friend Riltan?" she asked.
<Fine> Riltan signed automatically, understanding the expression,
forgetting that Takene didn't know sign.
Takene's eyebrows lifted. <You sign?>
<Yes>
<Problems?>
<None. Move camp after you left. Better area now. Wait here
for you. Teach boy.> Riltan signed slowly.
<Thank-you, my friend>
Riltan looked curiously at that last sign, then accepted it with
a nod. Friend, he thought. A long time since that term had been
directed at him or who he had been. And what did he know about being
a friend, he wondered He would make it up as he went along, the
decision came to him. He nodded, slowly, ritually, at Takene and
signed, <Friend>
<Good> she signed back. His whole attitude seemed to confirm
her supposition that Riltan was seeking - more than that, reinventing
his existence. <What now? We go-to camp now?>
Riltan noted that her signs, though understandable, had subtle
differences. Apparently the two sign languages had close ties to
each other. Interesting, that. It was a relief, however. This
would make life much easier for all concerned.
Turning to look at the surroundings as he digested this new
relationship he surprised Iro, who was looking at him in a most
disconcerting manner. She flushed and turned quickly. What had
that been about?
<No. I not go-to camp. Go-to caravan. Boy take you to
camp. I return nightfall. Need food>
<No> Takene returned. <We-all go. Carry more, less trips.
More safe>
Riltan was forced to agree. He nodded and started off without
further discussion.
"Come on, Lere, Iro, we're going to the caravan for supplies."
Takene started the two off and brought up the rear.
The new turn of events had Takene thinking as well. Things
would be easier now. Riltan was not fluent in sign, yet knew enough
to make communication possible. She, too, was surprised at how
close the two languages were to each other, yet something about
Riltan's signing seemed very stilted, as if he could not convey
nuances. It was like someone using a dictionary to speak a foreign
tongue. As yet she couldn't figure exactly what had, or hadn't,
caught her attention. It didn't matter. In time she would.

It was not as gruesome at the sacked Caravan as Takene believed
it would be. Carrion eaters had savaged the bodies pretty thoroughly
and the stench of death, for the most part, was gone. Nevertheless
she and Riltan had left Iro and Lere in a safe place, watching over
them as they hunted for goods not taken.
The raiders had creamed the caravan, leaving behind the bulkier,
the heavier, and the more mundane items. That included a fair bit of
food - the emergency rations included.
Takene and Riltan worked quickly, wanting to spend as little
time as possible at the ambush site. They put together a pile of
goods which would be valuable to them, including as much food as
they could salvage.
In several trips they moved their salvage to a hidden location.
From there they would take what they could carry back to camp, returning
if necessary.
Takene looked grimly at the wracks of the bodies of those she
had known, however slightly. Riltan, she noted, seemed unmoved.
As they moved the last of the goods away from the caravan she
shook her head sadly.
<Sorry no time bury bodies>
Riltan seemed surprised. His eyebrows lifted a fraction.
<Why want?>
Takene was at a loss. How could she answer such a question?
Riltan continued. <Better. No grave, no monument. No one
say 'Here lie hero, villain, coward.' No one know. No one
care. Better. Food for birds. Birds also must eat. Better> He
nodded. "Yeah. When I go, I hope it is like this. No memories
left behind. Anyone passing will only think, 'someone died here.'"
He did not care that Takene could not understand him, did not
care that she looked at him curiously. Perhaps she was wondering
at his signs, or perhaps she caught his tone of voice, or perhaps
she understood his language. Whatever the case, she reached over
and touched him lightly on the shoulder. He straightened up.
"Yeah. Let's finish up." He found the sound of his own
voice strange and fell back into silence.
The silence lasted as he loaded up the pack animal, as they
filled and struggled into their own packs. They looked carefully
around, making sure they had forgotten nothing and that the goods
left behind were well hidden, then set off for the new camp.
The long slog back to camp was uneventful and passed in
the silence in which it had begun. As they unloaded, Takene
noticed the four beds which had been prepared and frowned a little.
Iro noted the same thing and a small smile played at her lips,
hastily covered when Takene turned towards her.
"It's been a long day. Get some water and we'll make supper."
"As you wish, Takene."
Lere's head came up. He had never heard his sister address
Takene as anything other than 'Guardian'. Takene saw his
consternation and smiled at him.
"Your sister has become a woman, Lere, and as such I am no
longer her Guardian."
"You took here through the 'rites'?" Lere questioned. He
had heard of the 'rites', yet, like most young boys, did not
know what they entailed - except for . . . . "But, what about
her . . . " his voice faded away at Takene's sharp glance, and
he looked over to Riltan. Riltan was paying them no attention,
simply standing and looking out over the landscape.
"We will not mention that, nor will we discuss it further.
Do you understand?"
"Yes, Guardian."
"Now, how were your two days with our new friend?"
"The days were good. He started teaching me sign and some
other stuff." Lere hesitated.
"But?" questioned Takene.
"The nights, Guardian . . ." He didn't know how to explain
something that he felt was personal to his new friend.
Takene became alert. "What about the nights, Lere?" It was
an order he couldn't refuse.
"He has bad dreams. Very bad ones."
Takene relaxed. "How bad, Lere?"
"He woke up screaming a couple of times. Other times he didn't
wake up, but I did. He was thrashing around - I didn't know whether
or not to try and wake him up. It scared me. I'm glad you are back."
Lere was relieved to get this off his chest. "Why does he have such
bad dreams, Guardian?"
Takene shrugged. "Sometimes we see things or do things that
bother us so much that they surface in our dreams. Maybe Riltan has
seen some bad things, or something bad happened to him." Or did
some very terrible things, Takene thought but did not say. Lere
looked content with the explanation and she let it drop.

In the third hour after moonrise the moans from Riltan's bed
became too much for Takene. She arose and approached the dreaming
man. His back was turned to her and she reached down and shook him
gently by the shoulder.
Riltan's response was as instantaneous as it was violent. He
grabbed her wrist and pulled her over him, coming to his knees as
she toppled. His eyes were wild in the bright moonlight and his
fist was drawn back to deliver a death-blow to her throat. It had
happened so suddenly, and Takene was so unprepared, that she knew she
was dead.
Riltan hesitated and Takene saw sanity slowly coming to his eyes.
He drew a long shuddering breath as his fist relaxed and he sat back
on his heels. He blinked a couple of times, then the enormity of
what he had almost done was upon him.
His eyes widened for a moment then he grimaced as he sank back
within himself. In a flash Takene realized what had seemed so
stilted about his signing: He didn't use his face.
It seemed an incongruous thought following, as it did, her
near escape from death, yet it burned brightly in her, signaling
its importance. In sign language, the facial expressions carried
a lot of the nuances which tone of voice carried in spoken conversation.
Riltan had been like a man speaking in monotone. His face was like
a mirror of what he was inside - empty. Empty by choice, she intuited,
attempting to refill the shell carefully.
A sudden compassion filled her and she reached for him as she
sat up. Riltan, however, shrank back and sat on his bed.
<Go-to bed. Please. Leave alone> he signed. There was a look
of anguish on his face. It was, Takene thought, the first real
expression she had seen him make. She wasn't sure, however, whether
that was a good sign or not. She thought it was.
Takene returned to her bed but could not fall to sleep. The
thought of what she must do weighed heavily upon her. That he was
no longer what he had been was clear. But did that matter? The
things he had done! Yes, it did matter. She no longer found within
her the revulsion at what she planned. She rested. It was, perhaps,
an hour later when Riltan began to moan once more. Shrugging off
her indecision she arose once more and approached him.
This time, however, she did not touch him, instead calling out
his name softly until he jerked to wakefulness. He looked up
guiltily, knowing he'd awakened her once again.
<Go-to bed. Leave me, please> his eyes pleaded with her, then
widened slightly as she shook her head no.
Takene, instead, crawled into his bed and snuggled into him.
Tentatively he reached an arm over her. She intertwined her fingers
with his and brought his hand up to her breast, where she let it rest.
His arm contracted, bringing her tight against him, before relaxing.
A few minutes later his breathing betrayed to her that he was sleeping
quietly. There would be no more dreams this night, she knew, yet
knew not how she knew. Slowly, sleep overcame her as well.

In the morning Takene moved her bed to join Riltan's, missing,
as she did this, the look of anger directed towards her by Iro.
Had she seen, it would have made no difference. What she had to
do, Iro would not understand. Not yet. Much later, perhaps, when
she had gained the responsibility which must come to her, should
she survive. Just yet she was a woman in name only.
It was only with experience that the mantle of womanhood
would rest easy on her shoulders - yet, for her very survival,
some of that experience would have to be delayed. Takene was
not happy with that, yet her duty demanded no less.
Riltan sat quietly, his back to a tree trunk, watching
her move the bed. He did not move to help, nor to hinder, her
in her task. She understood that he was letting her make her
own decision in the matter. It was a curious sort of honour which
led him to that path, she thought, something which she would not
have expected of the one whose reputation had long preceded him.
The sharp bark of a bitter laugh escaped her, attracting
his attention. She bowed her head so he could not read her
expression. This one, this seeker, she preferred, yet it was
the other one she would need - the killer - or perhaps some
combination of the two. Finishing the move, she straightened
and sauntered over to where Riltan was sitting.
<You-me, walk> she signed, nodding her head in the direction
she wished to take.
Riltan looked at her impassively.
<Need talk> she waited for him to move.
Riltan shrugged and clambered to his feet. <Not talk here?>
<No. Come> Takene set off and Riltan, after pausing a moment,
picked up his hat and followed.
The green leaves of the trees almost sparkled in the bright
sun as the soft breeze tossed them lightly about. Takene led the
way past the meadow toward the small pool which lay beyond.
At the pool, backs to a pair of young trees, they sat side by
side, turned slightly towards each other. Takene breathed deeply,
smiled and let the air out with a sigh. It was beautiful there.
Riltan nodded and took a deep breath himself.
<Dream bad?> asked Takene.
Riltan pondered his answer for a moment before answering.
Finally he confirmed, <Bad> He knew that it was common knowledge
around the camp - how could it be otherwise, with him shouting
his way to wakefulness.
<You-me, friend?> It was more a statement than a question,
and Riltan nodded. <Good> Takene's expression was intense.
<Friend help friend> she explained. She believed she could, yet
felt a certain distaste for her motives.
Riltan appeared slightly surprised and bemused. <How?>
<Hold you me> she replied and almost laughed as his brow
furrowed. <Touch strong. You relax> Takene rose and moved
behind him before sitting once more. Her back was against the
tree, her legs open, knees bent, and she pulled him back against
her, his head resting on her shoulder and her chin resting lightly
on his.
How many times had she held her man thus, or he her, in times
of pain? How often had the mere presence of the other lent strength
to the two, allowing them to go on when movement had no longer seemed
possible?
This was not her man, but he was a man, nonetheless. And he
needed her. She would have need of him later. It would be good
having him owing her. She grimaced at that thought. That was not
what she really wanted, she knew. It was, however, a necessity.
Riltan felt her breath against his throat, felt the
rhythm of her chest as it rose and fell. It was comforting and
both relaxing and exciting at the same time. If he concentrated
he could feel the beating of her heart in her chest.
She allowed them to remain thus for some time. Finally
she lifted her head from his shoulder. It would be interesting
to try and sign from behind, with her arms around him.
<Remember dream> she signed, gave him a few seconds then
began nuzzling his neck. When he moved his head to give her
more room she stopped and gave his face a light slap. <No.
Remember dream> she ordered. She then began to nuzzle his neck
from the opposite side. He have a low groan and moved his head
again. Slap.
<Remember dream>
<Can't>
<Good>
Riltan turned his head, put his arm back and drew her head
to his. He gave her a light kiss. Progress, she thought. She
stood and moved around to face him.
She pointed at him. "Riltan."
She pointed at a point a few feet away. <Dream>
She moved to a point between the two. "Takene. <Here Always>
Takene <Between dream and> Riltan <Always>"
Riltan wasn't sure he believed this, although he was sure
that Takene did. It wasn't really important. What was important
was that she was that she was doing this for him. It was something
he would not forget. No, this would make a good memory, something
he would want to remember. It would be the first good memory,
something to treasure. How could he thank her? He slowly
pushed himself to his feet and walked to her. He looked down at
the serious expression on her face.
"Okay. Just you between me and the fire and the flood." She
looked up at him, questioningly. He shrugged. How could he
explain? He put his arms around her and gave her a light hug.
She responded with a tight grip and he tightened his to match.
After a minute he relaxed a little to see if she would follow his
lead. She merely hugged him all the tighter and he replied in
kind. It was a long time before she finally released him. At the
end he became all too aware of the heat of her.

<Return to camp> Takene signed regretfully and he nodded his
agreement. He started off, then stopped as she held out her hand.
He looked at it for a long time, then took it in his own and
together, hand in hand, they made their way back.

end of Cha. 3 of A QUESTION OF HONOUR by Delta delta@nym . alias . net
[part 1 of 2]