Vonda McIntyre - Dreamsnake

“I’m all right,” she said. Then she slid out of Snake’s hands and ran up a ladder into the darkness.

“Please come back,” Snake called. But the child had disappeared, and even when Snake followed her into the loft she could not find her.

Snake hiked up the trail to the residence, her shadow pushed back and forth by the swaying of the lantern she carried. She thought about the nameless little girl ashamed to come into the light. The bruise was in a bad spot, just at the temple. But she had not flinched from Snake’s touch — at least not the touch to the bruise — and she had none of the symptoms of a concussion. Snake did not have to worry about the child’s immediate health. But in the future?

Snake wanted to help somehow, but she knew that if she had the stablemaster reprimanded, the little girl would be left with the consequences when Snake went away.

Snake climbed the stairs to the mayor’s room.

Brian looked exhausted, but the mayor was fresh. Most of the swelling had left his leg. The punctures had scabbed over but Brian was doing a good job of keeping the main wound open and clean.

“When can I get up?” the mayor asked. “I have work to do. People to see. Disputes to settle.”

“You can get up any time,” Snake said. “If you don’t mind having to stay in bed three times as long afterwards.”

“I insist—”

“Just stay in bed,” Snake said tiredly.

She knew he would disobey. Brian, as usual, followed her to the hall.

“If the wound bleeds in the night, come get me,” she said. She knew it would, if the mayor got up, and she did not want the old servant to have to deal with the injury alone.

“He is all right? He will be?”

“Yes, if he doesn’t push himself too hard. He’s mending fairly well.”

“Thank you, healer.”

“Where’s Gabriel?”

“He does not come up here any more.”

“Brian, what’s the matter between him and his father?”

“I’m sorry, healer, I cannot say.”

You won’t, you mean, Snake thought.

Snake stood looking out over the dark valley. She did not feel like going to sleep yet. That was one of the things she did not much like about her proving year: most of the time, she went to bed alone. Too many people in the places she had gone knew about healers by reputation only, and were afraid of her. Even Arevin feared her at the beginning, and by the time his fear ebbed, and their mutual respect changed to attraction, Snake had to leave. They had no chance together.

She leaned her forehead against the cool glass.

When Snake first crossed the desert, it was to explore, to see the places healers had not visited in decades or that they had never visited before. She had been presumptuous, perhaps, or even foolish, to do what her teachers no longer did and no longer considered doing. There were not even enough healers for the people on this side of the desert. If Snake succeeded on her visit to the city, all that might change. But Jesse’s name was the only difference between Snake and any other healer to ask Center for knowledge. If she failed — Her teachers were good people, tolerant of differences and eccentricities, but how they would react to the errors Snake had made, she did not know.

The knock at her door came as a relief, for it interrupted her thoughts.

“Come in.”

Gabriel entered, and she was struck once more by his beauty.

“Brian tells me my father’s doing well.”

“Well enough.”

“Thank you for helping him. I know he can be difficult.‘’ He hesitated, glanced around, shrugged. ”Well… I just came in to see if there’s anything I can do for you.“

Despite his preoccupation, he seemed gentle and pleasant, qualities that attracted Snake as much as his physical beauty. And she was lonely. She decided to accept his well-mannered offer.

“Yes,” she said. “Thanks.” She stopped before him, touched his cheek, took his hand and led him toward a couch. A flask of wine and some glasses stood on a low table near the window.

Snake realized that Gabriel was blushing scarlet.

If she did not know all the desert customs, she knew those of the mountains: she had not overstepped her privileges as a guest, and he had made the offer. She faced Gabriel and took his arms just above the elbows. Now he was quite pale.

“Gabriel, what’s the matter?”

“I… I misspoke myself. I didn’t mean — If you like I can send someone to you—”

She frowned. “If ‘someone’ was all I wanted I could have hired them from town. I wanted someone I like.”

He gazed at her, with a quick faint grateful smile. Perhaps he had decided to stop repressing his beard and grow it out at the same time he decided to leave his father’s house, for his cheeks showed a trace of fine red-gold hair.

“Thank you for that,” he said.

She guided him to the couch, made him sit down, and sat beside him. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. His hair fell across his forehead, half hiding his eyes.

“Gabriel, have you somehow not noticed that you are beautiful?”

“No.” He managed a rueful grin. “I know that.”

“Do I have to pry this out of you? Is it me? Gods know I can’t match the looks of Mountainside people. Or if you prefer men, I understand.” She had not hit on what made him draw away from her yet; he had not reacted to anything she had suggested. “Are you ill? I’m the first person you should tell!”

“I’m not ill,” he said softly, not meeting her gaze. “And it isn’t you. I mean, if I had my choice of anyone… I’m honored you think this much of me.”

Snake waited for him to continue.

“It wouldn’t be fair to you, if I stayed. I might—”

When he stopped again, Snake said, “This is the trouble between you and your father. This is why you’re going away.”

Gabriel nodded. “And he’s right to want me to go.”

“Because you haven’t lived up to his expectations?” Snake shook her head. “Punishment is no help. It’s stupid and self-gratifying. Come to bed with me, Gabriel. I won’t make any demands on you.”

“You don’t understand,” Gabriel said miserably. He took her hand and lifted it to his face, rubbing her fingertips across the fine soft stubble. “I can’t keep my side of the agreement lovers make between them. I don’t know why. I had a good teacher. But biocontrol is all beyond my reach. I’ve tried. Gods, I’ve tried.” His blue eyes were bright. He let his hand fall away from hers, to his side. Snake caressed his cheek once more and put her arm around his shoulders, hiding her surprise. Impotence she could comprehend, but lack of control — ! She did not know what to say to him, and he had more to tell her, something he desperately wanted to talk about: she could feel that from the stark tension of his whole body. His fists were clenched. She did not want to push him; he had been hurt enough that way already. She found herself searching for gentle and roundabout ways of saying things she would ordinarily deal with straightforwardly.

“It’s all right,” Snake said. “I understand what you’re saying. Be easy. With me it doesn’t matter.”

He looked up at her, as wide-eyed and surprised as the little girl in the stable had been when Snake looked at the new bruise instead of the old, ugly scar.

“You can’t mean that. I can’t talk to anyone. They’d be disgusted, like my father. I don’t blame them.”

“You can talk to me. I won’t judge you.”

He hesitated a moment more, then the words, pent up for years, rushed out. “I had a friend named Leah,” Gabriel said. “That was three years ago, when I was fifteen. She was twelve. The first time she decided to make love with anyone, more than just playing, you know, she chose me. She hadn’t finished her training yet, of course, but it shouldn’t have mattered because I’d finished mine. I thought.”