Brian Aldiss - Helliconia Spring

Of course the girl was headstrong, whereas Laintal Ay was rather soft. She would lead him a dance before consenting to be his woman. Oyre was like the precious Shay Tal in that respect—difficult, pretty, and with a mind of her own.

He limped through the wide gates, head down, still nursing his side. Nahkri and Klils were walking nearby, fending off their screeching women. They both threw him a threatening look. “Keep your place, Aoz Roon,” Nahkri said.

He looked away, hunching a shoulder against them.

“I wielded the axe once and, by Wutra, I’ll wield it again,” he growled.

The world trembled before his sight. He gulped down a mug of rathel and water, but still sickness rose in him. He climbed to the lair he shared with his companions, indifferent for once how the game he had helped kill was stripped. Once in his room, he collapsed. But he would not suffer the slave woman to cut open his clothes or examine his wounds. He rested and hugged his ribs. After an hour, he went out alone and sought Shay Tal.

Since it was near a sunset, she was taking crusts of bread down to the Voral to feed the geese. The river was wide. It had unfrozen during the day, revealing black water fringed by shelves of white ice across which geese came honking. When they were both young, it was always frozen from bank to bank.

She said, “You hunters go so far away, yet I saw game on the other side of the river this morning. Hoxneys, and wild horses, I believe.”

Dark and moody, Aoz Roon looked down upon her and grasped her arm. “You’ve always a contrary idea, Shay Tal. Do you think you know better than the hunters? Why didn’t you come out at the sound of the horn?”

“I was busy.” She took her arm away and started to crumble the barley crusts as the geese surrounded her. Aoz Roon kicked out at them and grasped her arm again.

“I killed a fuggy today. I’m strong. It hurt me but I killed the dirty thing. All hunters look up to me, and all maidens. But it’s you I want, Shay Tal. Why don’t you want me?”

She turned a face with stabbing eyes up to his, not angry, but containedly angry. “I do want you, but you would break my arm if I went against you—and we should always be arguing. You never speak softly to me. You can laugh and you can scowl, but you can’t coo. There!”

“I’m not the sort to coo. Nor would I break your lovely arm. I would give you real things to think about.”

She answered nothing, but fed the birds. Batalix buried itself in snow, casting gold into strands of her hair which were loose. In the crisp dead scene, all that moved was the black rift of water.

After standing awkwardly regarding her, shifting his weight from one foot to another, he said, “What were you so busy at earlier?”

Not returning his gaze, she said intensely, “You heard my words on the doleful day when we buried Loilanun. I was speaking mainly to you. Here we live in this farmyard. I want to know what goes on in the world beyond it. I want to learn things. I need your assistance, but you are not quite the man to give it. So I teach the other women when there’s time, because that’s a way of teaching myself.”

“What good’s that going to do? You’re only stirring up trouble.”

She said nothing, staring across at the river, on which was cast the last of the day’s beggarly gold.

“I ought to put you over my knee and spank you.” He was standing below her on the bank, gazing up at her.

She looked angrily at him. Almost immediately, a change came over her face. She laughed, revealing her teeth and the ribbed pink roof of her mouth, before covering them with her hand. “You really don’t understand!”

Using the moment, he took her strongly into his arms. “I’d try to coo for you, and more besides, Shay Tal. Because of your lovely spirit, and your eyes as bright as those waters. Forget this learning which all can do without, and become my woman.”

He whirled her around, her feet off the ground, and the geese scattered indignantly, stretching their necks towards the horizon.

When she was standing again, she said, “Speak in an ordinary way to me, Aoz Roon, I beg. My life is twice precious, and I can give myself away once only. Knowledge is important to me—to everyone. Don’t make me choose between you and learning.”

“I’ve loved you a long while, Shay Tal. I know you’re vexed about Oyre, but you should not say no to me. Be my woman at once, or I’ll find another, I warn you. I’m a hot-blooded man. Live with me, and you’ll forget all about this academy.”

“Oh, you just repeat yourself. If you love me, try to bear what I’m saying.” She turned and started to walk up the slope towards her tower. But Aoz Roon ran forward and caught up with her.

“Are you going to leave me with no satisfaction, Shay Tal, after making me say all those silly things?” His manner was meek again, almost sly, as he added, “And what would you do if I were ruler here, Lord of Embruddock? It’s not impossible. You’d have to be my woman then.”

In the way she looked at him, he saw why he pursued her; just momentarily, he felt to the essence of her as she said softly, “So that’s how you dream, Aoz Roon? Well, knowledge and wisdom are another kind of dream, and we are fated each to pursue his own dream separately. I love you too, but no more than you do I want anyone to have power over me.”

He was silent. She knew he found her remark hard to accept—or thought he did; but he was pursuing another line of reasoning, and said, with a hard glance, “But you hate Nahkri, don’t you?”

“He doesn’t interfere with me.”

“Ah, but he does with me.”

As usual when the hunt returned, a feast was held, with drinking and eating into the night. In addition to the customary rathel, newly fermented by the brewers corps, there was dark barley wine. Songs were sung, jigs danced, as the liquors took hold. When the intoxication was at its height, most men were drinking in the big tower, which commanded a view down the main street. The ground floor had been cleared, and a fire burned there, sending its smoke curling against the metal- lined rafters. Aoz Roon remained moody, and broke away from the singing. Laintal Ay watched him go, but was too busy pursuing Oyre to pursue her father. Aoz Roon climbed the stairs, through the various levels, to emerge on the roof and gulp the cool of the air.

Dathka, who had no talent for music, followed him into the darkness. As usual, Dathka did not speak. He stood with his hands in his armpits, staring out at the vague looming shapes of night. A curtain of dull green fire hung in the sky overhead, its folds shading into the stratosphere.

Aoz Roon fell back with a great roar. Dathka grasped him and steadied him, but the older man fought him away.

“What ails you? Drunk, are you?”

“There!” Aoz Roon pointed into the vacant dark. “She’s gone now, damn her. A woman with the head of a pig. Eddre, the look in her eyes!”

“Ah, you’re seeing things. You’re drunk.”

Aoz Roon turned angrily. “Don’t you call me drunk, you shrimp! I saw her, I tell you. Naked, tall, thin-shanked, hair from slit to chin, fourteen dugs—coming towards me.” He ran about the roof, waving his arms.

Klils appeared through the trapdoor, staggering slightly, holding a femur of deer on which he was gnawing. “You two have no business up here. This is the Big Tower. Those who rule Oldorando come here.”

“You scumble,” Aoz Roon said approaching. “You dropped the axe.”

Klils coshed him savagely on the side of the neck with the deer bone. With a roar, Aoz Roon grasped Klils by the throat and tried to throttle him. But Klils kicked his ankle, pummelled him under the heart, and drove him back against the parapet surrounding the roof, part of which crumbled and fell away. Aoz Roon sprawled with his head hanging over into space.