«It is cruel for me to have but one choice,» she said, smiling at the young premen who waited in expectation. «I know you all. I have known your fathers and your mothers and, in some cases, your fathers' fathers. But the custom is the custom, and while I would choose you all, could I but do so, I must harden my heart and choose but one. That one, my choice, is—» She paused, but it was not effective, because we all knew her choice. Even he knew it, for he was shifting from one foot to the other, a proud smile on his face. «—Logan, son of Logman,» she said. The assembled females oohed in agreement. «And now I must choose,» Strabo said. He looked up at the sun and made a worship sign. «My pairmate has spoken well, and I, too, regret that by not saying names I exclude some of the finest young premen of the family. But the custom is the custom, even for Strabo of the Strongarm. I choose Young Pallas and Cree the Kite.» As father, Strongarm had two choices. In actual practice, the custom was not always fulfilled, for if the daughter coming of age was not desirable or rich there would seldom be enough premen to fulfill all of the allowed choices. It was considered to be honorable if two premen applied at a coming of age, shameful if there was only one, so that in some cases buythings were exchanged merely to have at least two applicants. Once, when I was very young, I remember Stillas the Housemaker leading a two-man raid on another family merely to capture one preman to assure his daughter of having two applicants. After the choice was made—the family member, of course—the captured preman was released. And now there was a pause as Yuree, shy and smiling, stood before us. «My father and mother honor me with their wise choices,» she said. «I am the most honored of prewomen. It is not pride which forces me to choose, but the custom, for who am I to question the age-old ways of the family? And so, with humbleness, I choose my three.» The way she emphasized the «three» told me that she did feel a little pride, for not many girls had the opportunity to choose three. «My choices,» Yuree said, «are Teetom…» I found myself holding my breath. «Yorerie the Butcher…» There was an intake of breath, for that choice was a surprising one. Yorerie the Butcher, preparer of meat, always smelly, crude, cursed with a bent of tongue which made speech difficult, was an unlikely choice. But, on the other hand, so was Teetom, the shadow of Logan. Teetom was a mean-natured preman with a hint of cruelty in his makeup, as if to make up for his weakness. He had been a sickly child and, as a result, was stunted, was two hands shorter than Logan. «And my third choice,» Yuree said, as I prepared to pick up my buythings and go back to my loneliness, «is Eban, son of Egan the Hunter.» And as she said it she looked me full in the face, a smile lighting her lips. Those who had not been selected began to pick up their buythings. When they had gone, Strabo sighed and stood forward. «And now, as is the custom, the new woman will be given her chance to choose.» It was breath-holding time again, for two things could happen. First, Yuree could make a choice and it was all over. Secondly, she could refuse to make a choice and then it was in the hands of the gods of man. «May I look first?» Yuree asked, with a charming smile directed at her father. «Yes, my daughter,» Strabo said proudly, pleased that she was wise enough to examine the offerings before making a choice. Many prewomen let their hearts rule and choose without regard for the future or for the ability of their pairmates to provide for them. Yuree started at the end of the line, with the pile of buythings offered by Yorerie the Butcher, made delighted sounds, pawed through, leaving the pile untidy, and moved on. It was several minutes before she came to my pile, and then I stood as if frozen, afraid to look down, as she knelt and pulled my pile apart. «Such lovely bearskins,» she cooed, and I flushed, hoping, for the first time, that she would choose me immediately. «But,» she went on, «Logan's offerings are beautiful, as are those of Cree and Teetom. It is so difficult.» «It is difficult,» Strabas agreed, kneeling beside Logan's pile of buythings, «but consider this,» she said, holding up a lovely beaded skirt of deerskin. «There is no need for haste,» Strabo said. Yuree stood, smoothing the tight little skirt of grass over her shapely rump. «It is sooooo difficult.» I knew that she was not going to pick. It was going into the hands of the gods of man. So be it, I said to myself. «Can you not choose?» Strabas asked, holding up the deerskin skirt. «No, Mother, I cannot. I am too honored by the offerings of the finest premen of our family,» Yuree said. «She will not choose,» Seer of Things Unseen had told me, not a half moon past. «She will extract the last measure of it, sending it into the hands of the gods of man.» And Seer was right. «We will leave it to the gods of man to choose,» Strabo said, with a smile of satisfaction. «Will you, Yuree, daughter of Strabo of the Strongarm, give a sign, a sign to encourage?» This was Logan. «I will,» she said. She put her hand on her chin. She made such a pretty picture that I felt my knees go weak again. «But I must have time to think. My sign will be suspended from the top of the hidehouse before the sun seeks its rest.» I knew it all, all aspects of the custom. Only two nights past I had sat before the fire of the Seer of Things Unseen and she, sucking the juices from tender meat which I had prepared for her, unable to chew with her toothless gums, had told me once again. «She will not choose,» Seer had said. «And she will demand brave and dangerous things.» For, you see, she had two choices. If asked to give a sign, she could, if she chose, give a hint as to the identity of her first choice and, thus assured, that lucky preman could apply himself to the last tests with confidence. However, she could also choose to forego giving a clue and to demand a task, a test, a gift. «Eban,» old Seer had said. «It is said you have the curse, and yet would your scalp burn in the sun if your curse was allowed to grow?» Indeed, when I was young and let my hair grow it was unnecessary for me to oil my skull against the summer sun, but curse it was, along with my skinny limbs. «It is said,» Seer went on, «that beyond the far hills are families who do not consider hair as a curse, but as a protection, even an adornment.» «They must be mad,» I said. «Is it not mad to seek danger in order to be considered for the dubious joy of being pairmate to a spoiled child?» Seer asked. She was talking about the prewoman I loved, had loved for as long as I could remember. «If a preman cannot face danger for what he desires,» I answered, «he does not deserve to be called man.» «She will send some of you to find death,» Seer said. So be it, I thought, as I, having waited the long day through, saw Strabo of the Strongarm come from his hidehouse and reach for the message string, and then I moved closer and watched as he tied on the clue which Yuree was giving us. I saw the other chosen watching, and I saw Teetom's face blanch, he being the first to see as Strabo stepped away. I saw it then. There was no mistaking it. I'd seen it before, on Strabo's father when he was family head, on Strabo himself. The thing which hung there was multicolored, connected by the hard veins, lumpy, hard, beautiful and deadly. All Yuree was asking her future pairmate to do was bring her a necklace of dragon guts. Chapter Two I spent the night alone atop a dome. God likes chaos. I used my hardax to chop and strew underbrush and a few trees, working in the late-evening light until I had transformed the very peak into a tangle in the center of which I made my bed and lay down with the fire burning low, godsticks in my hands making the sign. «God of Chaos,» I prayed.
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