Unexpected Stories by Octavia E. Butler Read Free Book Online Page B

about your river,” he broke in angrily. “Do you think that by burning my legs and keeping me here, you’ll cause the river to fill again?”
    “The people believe that the blue will save them,” she said simply. But she found herself again searching for some way to save him. She had already admitted that what had to be had to be, that there was nothing she could do. Now, though, facing him, she could no longer accept that decision.
    She let her attention stray from him as she thought, and with no warning at all, he sprang at her. She managed to dodge backward at the last possible instant and immediately she was all fighter again, watching, ready. Already, she knew that he was not as fast as he should have been. She had been completely unprepared. She should not have had time to dodge.
    “What purpose can this serve?” she asked him. “Even if you kill me, you can’t escape my people.”
    “Revenge, perhaps.” He faced her, his body seemingly relaxed. “If your people have their way, a lust for revenge is all I’ll have left.”
    “It hasn’t happened yet,” she said almost angrily. She rubbed her forehead. “Diut, if we’re superior people at all, we should be able to find a way to stop it from happening.” She had the beginnings of an idea, radical, but perhaps workable. She needed time to think though, and time to talk to him. But he was no longer in a mood to talk, or to listen.
    Abruptly he sprang forward again, aiming a jab at her throat that could have been lethal. She blocked the blow and moved quickly away from him without retaliating. He had given up. He was ready to kill. He was ready to die.
    They stood apart, watching each other, and it occurred to her that Diut fought as though he were fighting a judge or a hunter. No doubt it had been years since he had faced anyone who could match him in size, speed and strength. Now he fought as though he expected his opponent to be physically inferior, as though he expected one blow to be enough. Of course, one blow from him could very easily be enough for a judge or a hunter, but the Hao were harder to kill.
    His shortcoming had made Tahneh fairly sure that she could kill him, however. In fact, she was afraid he was going to make it difficult for her not to. But she knew that he would not listen to her until he had seen that he had no choice, that she was the better fighter. Grimly, she accepted his challenge.
    Tahneh’s coloring became the clearest of blues, luminescent, intense, the essence of all that was compelling and confusing about the Hao coloring. Diut stared at her, feeling himself captured, drawn, momentarily as confused as any non-Hao might have been. He wanted to look away, to back away. He wanted to go to her, to touch her … With an effort, he threw off the influence. He wanted to kill her.
    He did nothing at all. He stood where he was, realizing that she could have struck him down while her coloring held him. Why hadn’t she? Did she still think she could talk him into submission? Did she think she could use the bond of their mutual coloring to sway him?
    Deliberately, he let his own body flare into a harsher, less pleasing luminescence. In the midst of the flare, he shot toward her, striking again at her throat, hoping that his glare had blinded her.
    Tahneh bent her body sharply to one side without moving her feet, so that his hand jabbed empty air. But her hand slashed stunningly into the side of his neck.
    He stumbled away, glaring at her in pain and rage. Blue or not, she was not far from the time when her coloring would begin to mottle with yellow age spots. She had no right to be so fast.
    He realized that she could have hit him a little differently and killed him if that had been her purpose. Or she could have knocked him unconscious or crippled him. These last thoughts were chilling. Somehow, he had to prevent her from crippling him or knocking him out and giving him to her people. Only by presenting a solid threat to her could