He was one of a kind, save for Djan, who hated him.
And among nemet, he was not even hated. He was inconvenient.
Food arrived late that evening, brought by Hef; Kurt dragged his aching limbs out of bed and fully dressed, which would not have been his inclination, but he was determined to do nothing to lessen his esteem in the eyes of the nemet.
Then Kta arrived to share dinner with him in his room.
“It is custom to take dinner in the rhmei, all Elas together,” Kta explained, “but I teach you, here. I don’t want you to offend against my family. You learn manners first.”
Kurt had borne with much. “I have manners of my own,” he cried, “and I’m sorry if I contaminate your house. Send me back to the Afen, to Djan-it’s not too late for that.” And he turned his back on the food and on Kta, and walked over to stand looking out the dark window. It dawned on him that sending him to Elas had been Djan’s subtle cruelty; she expected him back, broken in pride.
“I meant no insult,” Kta protested.
Kurt looked back at him, met the dark, foreign eyes with more directness than Kta had ever allowed him. The nemet’s face was utterly stricken.
“Kurt-ifhan,” said Kta, “I didn’t wish to cause you shame. I wish to help you, not putting you on display in the eyes of my father and my mother. It is your dignity I protect.”
Kurt bowed his head and came back, not gladly. Djan was in his mind, that he would not run to her for shelter, giving up what he had abjectly begged of her. And perhaps too she had meant to teach the house of Elas its place, estimating it would beg relief of the burden it had asked. He submitted. There were worse shames than sitting on the floor like a child and letting Kta mold his unskilled fingers around the strange tableware.
He quickly knew why Kta had not permitted him to go downstairs. He could scarcely feed himself and, starving as he was, he had to resist the impulse to snatch up food in disregard of the unfamiliar utensils. Drink with the left hand only, eat with the right, reach with the left, never the right. The bowl was lifted almost to the lips, but it must never touch. From the almost bowl-less spoon and thin skewer he kept dropping bites. The knife must be used only left-handed.
Kta was cautiously tactful after his outburst, but grew less so as Kurt recovered his sense of humor. They talked,
between instructions and accidents, and afterward, over a cup of tea. Sometimes Kta asked him of human customs, but he approached any difference between them with the attitude that while other opinions and manners were possible, they were not so under the roof of Elas.
“If you were among humans,” Kurt dared ask him finally, “what would you do?”
Kta looked as if the idea horrified him, but covered it with a downward glance. “I don’t know. I know only Tamurlin.”
“Did not”-he had tried for a long time to work toward this question-“did not Djan-methi come with others?”
The frightened look persisted. “Yes. Most left. Djan-methi killed the others.”
He quickly changed the subject and looked as if he wished he had not been so free of that answer, though he had given it straightly and with deliberation.
They talked of lesser things, well into the night, over many cups of tea and sometimes of telise, until from the rest of Elas there was no sound of people stirring and they had to lower their voices. The light was exceedingly dim, the air heavy with the scent of oil from the lamps. The telise made it close and warm. The late hour clothed things in unreality.
Kurt learned things, almost all simply family gossip, for Djan and Elas were all in Nephane that they both knew, and Kta, momentarily so free with the truth, seemed to have remembered that there was danger in it. They spoke instead of Elas.
Nym was the authority, the lord of Elas; Kta had almost no authority, although he was over thirty-he hardly looked it-and commanded a warship. Kta would be under Nym’s authority as long as Nym lived; the eldest male was lord in the house. If Kta married, he must bring his bride to live under his father’s roof. The girl would become part of Elas, obedient to Kta’s father and mother as if she were born to the house. So Aimu was soon to depart, betrothed to Kta’s lieutenant Bel t’Osanef. They had been friends since childhood, Kta and Bel and Aimu.