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Authors: Octavia E. Butler
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as far as Diut pressed him. It was no dishonor for a non-Hao to give ground before a Hao. And Ehreh would find out what he wanted to know.
Ehreh looked at Diut with respect but without fear. “Tehkohn Hao,” he said quietly. “I don’t question your word. I only wonder … if you can be certain that your people will be as willing as you are to keep the promise that you’ve made.”
Tahneh watched Ehreh now, remembering how little confidence Diut had inspired in her earlier. It was important that her chiefs not feel what she felt. Diut had to be able to display Hao superiority whether he believed in it or not. He spoke mildly.
“I’m an acknowledged Hao, chief judge. Why do you question my ability to govern?”
Just right, Tahneh thought. Retreat was the only escape from such a question.
“I … spoke too quickly, Tehkohn Hao.” Ehreh’s voice was lower. “I did question and I had no right. I meant no offense.”
“A chief judge should be less careless,” said Diut. “Speak carelessly again and I’ll accept your words as challenge.”
Ehreh flashed white assent. Then, as his coloring darkened back to normal, the door opened and several judges carried Jeh and Cheah into the room. The two were still securely tied. Their judge captors placed them on the floor before Tahneh and left silently. When they were gone, Tahneh spoke again to her chiefs.
“You’ve all heard my decision. We’re going. You will inform the people.”
The four accepted this, understood that the meeting was over. When Tahneh, by her silence and muted coloring, had encouraged questions and argument, the chiefs had questioned and argued. Now, however, her tone told them that she had made her decision and their protests ended. Three of them filed out at once. Even Ehreh stopped only long enough to ask if he could speak with her later. At her “Yes,” he turned and followed the others.
As they left, Tahneh went to one of the looms and from beside it took a weaver’s knife. Handling the knife, she remembered that nonfighters had occasionally been known to use such tools on each other in anger. Being nonfighters, they had no standards of combat, no moral obligation to restrict themselves to only the body’s natural weapons. Thus it would have been possible for a nonfighter to try to use such a tool on Diut. It would have been an act of suicidal desperation, but it would have been possible. Tahneh was glad it had not happened. She would have found it much harder to bargain with a Hao who had just killed one of the weakest of her tribe. She handed the knife to Diut.
He took it wordlessly and cut his huntress and judge free of their bonds.
The two got up stiffly, rubbing arms and legs. They said nothing, apparently waiting for Diut to tell them what had happened. He told them briefly and as he spoke, Tahneh watched their reactions with special interest. Jeh and Cheah were to play an important part in her plans. It would be dangerous if they were actively hostile to the idea of a tie between the two tribes. But there was no sign of hostility in their manner.
“And you have already given your word in this, Tehkohn Hao?” asked Jeh when Diut was finished.
“So,” Diut answered.
Jeh seemed to think about it. “There’s room,” he said. “There’s food and water.” He glanced at Tahneh. “And there are plenty of contentious fighters jealous of the places that they’ve already made for themselves.”
“One fighter may challenge another,” said Tahneh.
But apparently she had missed something in the young judge’s seemingly innocent words—something Diut caught. Diut spoke up quickly.
“That’s so. But the three of us, Jeh, will hold no grudge for what has happened to us here.” He looked from Jeh to Cheah, and Tahneh saw by the looks that they gave back that he had guessed right. The two had been roughly handled, unfairly subdued by several Rohkohn, then humiliatingly displayed. Apparently they felt that they had debts
Ehreh looked at Diut with respect but without fear. “Tehkohn Hao,” he said quietly. “I don’t question your word. I only wonder … if you can be certain that your people will be as willing as you are to keep the promise that you’ve made.”
Tahneh watched Ehreh now, remembering how little confidence Diut had inspired in her earlier. It was important that her chiefs not feel what she felt. Diut had to be able to display Hao superiority whether he believed in it or not. He spoke mildly.
“I’m an acknowledged Hao, chief judge. Why do you question my ability to govern?”
Just right, Tahneh thought. Retreat was the only escape from such a question.
“I … spoke too quickly, Tehkohn Hao.” Ehreh’s voice was lower. “I did question and I had no right. I meant no offense.”
“A chief judge should be less careless,” said Diut. “Speak carelessly again and I’ll accept your words as challenge.”
Ehreh flashed white assent. Then, as his coloring darkened back to normal, the door opened and several judges carried Jeh and Cheah into the room. The two were still securely tied. Their judge captors placed them on the floor before Tahneh and left silently. When they were gone, Tahneh spoke again to her chiefs.
“You’ve all heard my decision. We’re going. You will inform the people.”
The four accepted this, understood that the meeting was over. When Tahneh, by her silence and muted coloring, had encouraged questions and argument, the chiefs had questioned and argued. Now, however, her tone told them that she had made her decision and their protests ended. Three of them filed out at once. Even Ehreh stopped only long enough to ask if he could speak with her later. At her “Yes,” he turned and followed the others.
As they left, Tahneh went to one of the looms and from beside it took a weaver’s knife. Handling the knife, she remembered that nonfighters had occasionally been known to use such tools on each other in anger. Being nonfighters, they had no standards of combat, no moral obligation to restrict themselves to only the body’s natural weapons. Thus it would have been possible for a nonfighter to try to use such a tool on Diut. It would have been an act of suicidal desperation, but it would have been possible. Tahneh was glad it had not happened. She would have found it much harder to bargain with a Hao who had just killed one of the weakest of her tribe. She handed the knife to Diut.
He took it wordlessly and cut his huntress and judge free of their bonds.
The two got up stiffly, rubbing arms and legs. They said nothing, apparently waiting for Diut to tell them what had happened. He told them briefly and as he spoke, Tahneh watched their reactions with special interest. Jeh and Cheah were to play an important part in her plans. It would be dangerous if they were actively hostile to the idea of a tie between the two tribes. But there was no sign of hostility in their manner.
“And you have already given your word in this, Tehkohn Hao?” asked Jeh when Diut was finished.
“So,” Diut answered.
Jeh seemed to think about it. “There’s room,” he said. “There’s food and water.” He glanced at Tahneh. “And there are plenty of contentious fighters jealous of the places that they’ve already made for themselves.”
“One fighter may challenge another,” said Tahneh.
But apparently she had missed something in the young judge’s seemingly innocent words—something Diut caught. Diut spoke up quickly.
“That’s so. But the three of us, Jeh, will hold no grudge for what has happened to us here.” He looked from Jeh to Cheah, and Tahneh saw by the looks that they gave back that he had guessed right. The two had been roughly handled, unfairly subdued by several Rohkohn, then humiliatingly displayed. Apparently they felt that they had debts
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