Read Online Planet Of Exile by Ursula K. LeGuin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ursula K. LeGuin
Tags: SF
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everyone depended on you—"
He repeated what he had told her, for it was the truth and all he could tell her. She bespoke him with harshness: But you're not going to marry her, so you'd better learn to get on without her.
He replied only, No.
She sat back on her heels a while. When her mind opened again to his it was with a great depth of bitterness. Well, go ahead, what's the difference. At this point whatever we do, any of us, alone or together, is wrong. We can't do the right thing, the lucky thing. We can only go on committing sui- cide, little by little, one by one. Till we're all gone, till Al-terra is gone, all the exiles dead ...
"Alia," he broke in aloud, shaken by her despair, "the ... the men went ... ?"
"What men? Our army?" She said the words sarcastically. "Did they march north yesterday—without you?"
"Pilotson—"
"If Pilotson had led them anywhere it would have been to attack Tevar. To avenge you. He was crazy with rage yesterday."
"Andthey..."
"The hilfs? No, of course they didn't go. When it became known that Wold's daughter is running off to sleep with a farborn in the woods, Wold's faction comes in for a certain amount of ridicule and discredit—you can see that? Of course, it's easier to see it after the fact; but I should have thought—"
"For God's sake, Alia."
"All right. Nobody went north. We sit here and wait for the Gaal to arrive when they please."
Jakob Agat lay very still, trying to keep himself from falling headfirst, backwards, into the void that lay under him. It was the blank and real abyss of his own pride: the self-deceiving arrogance from which all his acts had sprung: the lie. If he went under, no matter. But what of his people whom he had betrayed?
Alia bespoke him after a while: Jakob, it was a very little hope at best. You did what you could.
Man and unman can't work together. Six hundred home-years of failure should tell you that. Your folly was only their pretext. If they hadn't turned on us over it, they would have found something else very soon. They're our enemies as much as the Gaal. Or the Winter. Or the rest of this planet that doesn't want us. We can make no alliances but among ourselves. We're on our own. Never hold your hand out to any creature that belongs to this world.
He turned his mind away from hers, unable to endure the finality of her despair. He tried to lie closed in on himself, withdrawn, but something worried him insistently, dragged at his consciousness, until suddenly it came clear, and struggling to sit up he stammered, "Where is she? You didn't send her back—"
Clothed in a white Alterran robe, Rolery sat crosslegged, a little farther away from him than Alia had been. Alia was gone; Rolery sat there busy with some work, mending a sandal it seemed. She had not seemed to notice that he spoke; perhaps he had only spoken in dream. But she said presently in her light voice, "That old one upset you. She could have waited. What can you do now? ... I think none of them knows how to take six steps without you."
The last red of the sunlight made a dull glory on the wall behind her. She sat with a quiet face, eyes cast down as always, absorbed in mending a sandal.
In her presence both guilt and pain eased off and took their due proportion. With her, he was himself. He spoke her name aloud.
"Oh, sleep now; it hurts you to talk," she said with a nicker of her timid mockery.
"Will you stay?" he asked.
"Yes."
"As my wife," he insisted, reduced by necessity and pain to the bare essential. He imagined that her people would kill her if she went back to them; he was not sure what his own people might do to her. He was her only defense, and he wanted the defense to be certain.
She bowed her head as if in acceptance; he did not know her gestures well enough to be sure. He wondered a little at her quietness now. The little while he had known her she had always been quick with motion and emotion. But it had been a very little while ... As she sat there
He repeated what he had told her, for it was the truth and all he could tell her. She bespoke him with harshness: But you're not going to marry her, so you'd better learn to get on without her.
He replied only, No.
She sat back on her heels a while. When her mind opened again to his it was with a great depth of bitterness. Well, go ahead, what's the difference. At this point whatever we do, any of us, alone or together, is wrong. We can't do the right thing, the lucky thing. We can only go on committing sui- cide, little by little, one by one. Till we're all gone, till Al-terra is gone, all the exiles dead ...
"Alia," he broke in aloud, shaken by her despair, "the ... the men went ... ?"
"What men? Our army?" She said the words sarcastically. "Did they march north yesterday—without you?"
"Pilotson—"
"If Pilotson had led them anywhere it would have been to attack Tevar. To avenge you. He was crazy with rage yesterday."
"Andthey..."
"The hilfs? No, of course they didn't go. When it became known that Wold's daughter is running off to sleep with a farborn in the woods, Wold's faction comes in for a certain amount of ridicule and discredit—you can see that? Of course, it's easier to see it after the fact; but I should have thought—"
"For God's sake, Alia."
"All right. Nobody went north. We sit here and wait for the Gaal to arrive when they please."
Jakob Agat lay very still, trying to keep himself from falling headfirst, backwards, into the void that lay under him. It was the blank and real abyss of his own pride: the self-deceiving arrogance from which all his acts had sprung: the lie. If he went under, no matter. But what of his people whom he had betrayed?
Alia bespoke him after a while: Jakob, it was a very little hope at best. You did what you could.
Man and unman can't work together. Six hundred home-years of failure should tell you that. Your folly was only their pretext. If they hadn't turned on us over it, they would have found something else very soon. They're our enemies as much as the Gaal. Or the Winter. Or the rest of this planet that doesn't want us. We can make no alliances but among ourselves. We're on our own. Never hold your hand out to any creature that belongs to this world.
He turned his mind away from hers, unable to endure the finality of her despair. He tried to lie closed in on himself, withdrawn, but something worried him insistently, dragged at his consciousness, until suddenly it came clear, and struggling to sit up he stammered, "Where is she? You didn't send her back—"
Clothed in a white Alterran robe, Rolery sat crosslegged, a little farther away from him than Alia had been. Alia was gone; Rolery sat there busy with some work, mending a sandal it seemed. She had not seemed to notice that he spoke; perhaps he had only spoken in dream. But she said presently in her light voice, "That old one upset you. She could have waited. What can you do now? ... I think none of them knows how to take six steps without you."
The last red of the sunlight made a dull glory on the wall behind her. She sat with a quiet face, eyes cast down as always, absorbed in mending a sandal.
In her presence both guilt and pain eased off and took their due proportion. With her, he was himself. He spoke her name aloud.
"Oh, sleep now; it hurts you to talk," she said with a nicker of her timid mockery.
"Will you stay?" he asked.
"Yes."
"As my wife," he insisted, reduced by necessity and pain to the bare essential. He imagined that her people would kill her if she went back to them; he was not sure what his own people might do to her. He was her only defense, and he wanted the defense to be certain.
She bowed her head as if in acceptance; he did not know her gestures well enough to be sure. He wondered a little at her quietness now. The little while he had known her she had always been quick with motion and emotion. But it had been a very little while ... As she sat there
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