Butler, Octavia - Survivor

I smiled. “This might not be quite like the story then. I doubt that Tien is Hao.”

“She may be. But even if she is not, her coloring will place her high—she was bom so dark! And she is Diut’s daughter. There will be honor for Gehnahteh and Choh. And much honor for you, Alanna. The people pester you now, but also, they honor you. If I had borne a child, they would behave this way. Both you and Tien are of interest to everyone—more than interest. Tien might someday be their leader.”

The ceremony was held in a huge gathering room beneath the living quarters. The only people absent were those unlucky enough to be on watch in the mountains outside. Tahneh presided, standing tall and regal. The people fanned out in a wide half circle around her, fighter and nonfighter together, ignoring clan differences for once since no specific clan was welcoming this first child. Everyone welcomed Diut’s child.

I was wearing my usual pants and short tunic made from soft leather and a wide blue-green fur cloak. But all my clothing was new, made for me since Tien’s birth. Diut had given it to me just as I was about to dress for the ceremony. He still gave gifts, but he had been very subdued about giving these. The separation was not going to be easy for him either.

In my new clothing, I knelt beside Diut on a small pallet of fur on the stone floor. Tien slept peacefully in my arms. To my right on a similar pallet knelt Gehnahteh and Choh. Behind them were all the people. Before them stood Tahneh.

“We meet to welcome a first child,” said Tahneh, her strange quiet voice reaching out to the corners of the room.

“May she be the first of many,” replied the people in unison.

“We meet to welcome a fighter.”

“May the young fighter grow strong and increase the strength of the tribe.”

“We meet to welcome a woman-child.”

“May the woman-child be fertile, and in her turn, help to replenish the tribe.”

Tahneh lowered the pitch of her voice slightly. “We are an ancient people. The Kohn empire was the handiwork of our ancestors.”

“We are a new people,” said the many voices. “In each child we welcome, we are reborn.”

“There is a color for welcoming,” said Tahneh.

The people blazed luminescent white.

“And there is a color for life.”

The people glowed a swiftly uniform green—the green of healthy mountain vegetation washed clean by rain.

“And there is a color for strength and honor.”

The people ceased to radiate light at all. They allowed their coloring to settle to normal. Now only Diut and Tahneh blazed forth in brilliant blues.

“We welcome the fighter child,” said Tahneh. “May she have long life, strength, and honor.” Tahneh looked at the two artisans. “May she have the care she will need while she is young.”

Gehnahteh and Choh stood up. Diut and I also stood.

“A fighter child needs two mothers and two fathers to keep her safe,” said Tahneh. “What man fathered this child?”

“I am her father,” said Diut.

“And what woman gave birth?”

“I,” I said simply.

“So. But you are fighters. And you must be free to defend the tribe. Are there others whom you would trust to care for your child?”

Diut answered for both of us. “We ask the artisans Gehnahteh and Choh to be parents to our child when we cannot.”

Tahneh looked at the artisans. “Will you accept the fighter child?”

“She will be as one born to us,” said Gehnahteh softly.

I stepped forward and placed Tien in Gehnahteh’s arms.

Tahneh whitened. “The tribe is one greater now. We will feast and rejoice!”

Dawn.

The Verrick cabin had burned to the ground and was still smoldering. The storehouse had burned even more quickly, but its fire had spread. It was still spreading. The storehouse that had served as a prison for the Tehkohn captives had burned. Now several of the Missionaries’ cabins were on fire. The settlement was full of smoke and ash. But only the buildings were burning. The people had gotten out with their possessions. That was all that mattered.

The Garkohn were scattered, painted, confused, beaten. Most of them had already fled back to their own dwelling. Tehkohn fighters hunted those who were still at the settlement. They found injured ones who had tried to hide, and snapped their necks perfunctorily. The Missionaries first stared, then turned away. It was a kind of killing that they pretended to be shocked at-though unlike Jules and Neila, many of them had advocated using it against wild humans on Earth. Alanna remembered if they did not.

Alanna stood with Diut, watching them prepare to leave. Near her, an old woman-Beatrice Stamp, her name was-and her two recently orphaned young grandchildren struggled to load a heavy sack onto a handcart. Between them, they could drag the sack well enough, but they could not lift it. Since no one else had noticed their trouble, Alanna went to help. Burdened by neither too many years nor too few, Alanna lifted the sack and threw it into the cart. The old woman looked at Diut, then looked at Alanna as though she did not know whether to thank her or not.

Alanna went back to Diut’s side staring at his grotesquely swollen arm. “You need care.” She spoke in English. “When will you let a healer help you?” She had seen two judges who were healers at the settlement.

“When your Missionaries are on their way.” He took a ragged breath and looked down at his misshapen arm. “Soon.”

Alanna saw that the first Missionaries to be fully ready to leave were lining up at the gate with their handcarts. They looked like a miniature wagon train out of pre-Clayark Earth history. But this was a train that used people as draft animals and handcarts as covered wagons.

Jules moved along the lengthening line, checking the carts and the people, seeing that everyone had packed the essentials, seeing that the very young and the very old had help. Alanna saw him order a stocky adolescent boy to help Beatrice Stamp and her grandchildren pull their cart.

“I spoke to him while you were helping your mother to load her cart,” said Diut. “Some of my fighters will guide him across the mountains and help him settle in the next valley.”

“If only the Garkohn will leave them alone there.”

“The Garkohn will leave everyone alone for a while. They have gaping wounds to tend. Two leaders dead…” He broke off suddenly. “Why did you kill Gehl?”

“She was trying to burn my parents’ house—with all of us inside.” No need to tell him why. That was over.

“I am glad she is dead. She was as ambitious as Natahk. Wehhano will be easier to deal with. And he will keep to the valley more.” He changed the subject abruptly. “Your father asked me to send you with the Missionaries.”

She looked at him silently.

“He said you belonged with your own people. He said I had no hold on you now that Tien was dead.”

Alanna sighed and shook her head.

“I asked him if it was the Missionary way for a husband to send his wife away because their child had died.”

“He has believed one way all his life,” said Alanna. “It is hard for him to change.”

“He is not trying to change. He is trying to find reasons not to change. Reasons that prove him right.” There was harshness in his voice. It was not the first time Jules’s stubbornness had angered him.

“He will be gone soon.”

“So. And you must speak with him before he leaves.”

“I know.” Family. Among the Kohn, a kinsman was a kinsman no matter how foolishly he behaved. And Alanna found herself agreeing with them. Jules had chosen to make her his daughter, and after a time, she had chosen to accept him as her father. But she could not choose now to end the relationship. She would probably not see him again, but she would still think of him as her father, still love him. Diut was right. She had to try once more. But she did not move. She stood watching Jules, wanting to go to him, but not wanting to feel the weight of his condemning stare again. What kind of man was he that he could condemn her for saving both his life and the Mission, his reason for living? Then she saw Nathan James approaching. She made a sound of disgust. Jules’s intolerance was hard enough to take. Jules she loved. She had never loved Nathan.