as pledgemate. Hurt, yes, it had hurt indeed, as did Korâs thrust. I winced, but before I could parry he cursed between his teeth and rolled over so that he lay facedown, his voice muffled in his blanket.
âSorry, Dan. Truth is, IâMahelaâs bowels, perhaps I am a coward. I thinkâI could not play this game you describe to me. I have always dreamed ofâa special one.â¦â
âWe all do,â I said softly, forgetting anger.
âAnd I have thought that once I have given myself to a woman I will be hers forever. I will not be able to help that.â
I could not gainsay him. Had I not often sensed something fated in him?
âThe maidens of my own peopleâwe were good comrades as children, but often now they seem to me as strange and cold asâas devourers. And less willing.â He sat up, shaking his head. âBah! I am whimpering. Forget it.â
âNo. Tell me,â I said, gazing at him across low flames. âI was starting to understand.â
His shoulders sagged, his face turned toward the ground. âPerhaps I am deceiving myself,â he muttered. âPerhaps the devourers have made me afraid.â
I knew by then, but I blurted it out anyway. âYou have notâyouâve neverââ
âI am yet a virgin, Dan.â He lifted his face and gifted me with one of his rare smiles, as if he felt suddenly lighthearted, telling me. âThe fishy-flapping demons have given me my only bedding.â
âDamn them,â I breathed, growing angry with a wrath as sudden as his gladness. âDamn the demons, and damn the prick-me-dainty wenches who would not come to you! The birdwits, how could they have been so stupid! Damn it to Mahela, Kor, itâs not your fault!â
He shrugged, abashed by my fervor but faintly smiling. âI think it is the pattern of my life,â he said.
âSkewed,â I grumbled, and did not know how truly I had spoken.
Chapter Four
In the night I heard Kor moving about restlessly without fully awakening to ask him why. The next morning when I spoke to him he answered me with sour silence. It took me a moment to recognize ill humor in him, for I saw it seldom enough. Once in a tenweek, perhaps, and then it often took the form of silence. He would not shout, most times, unless he was prodded.
âWhat ails you?â I prodded.
Silence, and a sullen frown. I pulled cold cooked roots out of the ashes of the fire for our breakfast, offered him one to eat. He shook his head. But when he turned away his face and coughed as I bit into mine, I knew what the trouble was.
âMountain sickness,â I said, laying the food aside.
He scowled back at me in dismal inquiry.
âThere seems to be a live lizard in your stomach and a Cragsman pounding on your head? Cramps in your limbs? A brawling in your chest?â
With a wan look he nodded.
âIt is nothing,â I explained. âOnly a sickness because of the thin air. Already we have climbed higher than you have been before. It is not dangerousâit will pass in a day or two, three at the most. I have seen it in some of the younger members of my tribe, the very young and untraveled.â
âThanks,â he said sulkily, the first word he had spoken.
âThey suffer worst. They become parlous ill-humored as well,â I remarked. Because his sour look roused mischief in me, I did not tell him that I was one who had suffered this same ailment, often and noisily. I merely motioned him toward his blanket.
âWe should go on,â he said, his mouth moving stiffly with his misery. But he got up and started gathering gear, though the commotion in his gut bent him like a bowed sapling. I abandoned my know-all air.
âKor, you ass, lie down!â I got up and wrestled the things away from him. âYou are not riding today. Lie down, or I will eat in front of you!â
At the very thought he retched, a dry sound without
Learning to Kill: Stories