“This is Elas,” said Nym. “Consider again, gentlemen, where you are. I did not bid you here, and I did not hear the chan of Elas give you leave either.”
“The Methi’s orders,” said the eldest of the four. “We came to fetch the human. This betrothal is not permitted.”
“Then you are too late,” said Nym. “If the Methi wished to intervene, it was her right, but now the betrothal is sealed.”
That set them aback. “Still,” said their leader, “we must bring him back to the Afen.”
“Elas will permit him to go back,” said Nym, “if he chooses.”
“He will go with us,” said the man.
Han t’Osanef stepped up beside Nym and bent a terrible frown on the Methi’s guardsmen. “T’Senife, I ask you come tonight to the house of Osanef. I would ask it, t’Senife, and the rest of you young men. Bring your fathers. We will talk.”
The men had a different manner for t’Osanef: resentful, but paying respect.
“We have duties,” said the man called t’Senife, “which keep us at the Afen. We have no time for that. But we will say to our fathers that t’Osanef spoke with us at the house of Bias.”
“Then go back to the Afen,” said t’Osanef. “I ask it. You offend Bias.”
“We have our duty,” said t’Senife, “and we must have the human.”
“I will go,” said Kurt, coming forward. He had the feeling that there was much more than himself at issue, he intruded fearfully into the hate that prickled in the air. Kta put out a hand, forbidding him.
“The guest of Elas,” said Nym in a terrible voice, “will walk from the door of Elas if he chooses, but the Methi herself has no power to cause this hall to be invaded. Wait at our doorstep. And you, friend Kurt, do not go against your will. The law forbids.”
“We will wait outside,” said t’Senife, at t’Osanef’s hard look. But they did not bow as they left.
“My friend,” Han t’Osanef exclaimed to Nym, “I blush for these young men.”
“They are,” said Nym in a shaking voice, “young men. Elas also will speak with their fathers. Do not go, Kurt t’Morgan. You are not compelled to go.”
“I think,” said Kurt, “that eventually I would have no choice. I would do better to go speak with Djan-methi, if it is possible.” But it was in his mind that reason with her was not likely. He looked at Mim, who stood frightened and silent by the side of Ptas. He could not touch her. Even at such a time he knew they would not understand. “I will be back as soon as I can,” he said to her.
But to Kta, at the door of Elas before he went out to put himself into the hands of the Methi’s guards:
“Take care of Mim. And I do not want her or your father or any of Elas to come to the Afen. I do not want her involved and I am afraid for you all.”
“You do not have to go,” Kta insisted.
“Eventually,” Kurt repeated, “I would have to. You have taught me there is grace in recognizing necessity. Take care of her.” And with Kta, whom he knew so well, he instinctively put out his hand to touch, and refrained.
It was Kta who gripped his hand, an uncertain, awkward gesture, not at all nemet. “You have friends and kinsmen now. Remember it.”
VI
“There is no need of that,” Kurt cried, shaking off the guards’ hands as they persisted in hurrying him through the gates of the Afen. No matter how quickly he walked, they had to push him or lay hands on him, so that people in the streets stopped and stared, most unnemetlike, most embarrassing for Elas. It was to spite Nym that they did it, he was sure, and rather than make a public scene worse, he had taken the abuse until they entered the Afen court, beyond witnesses.
There was a long walk between the iron outer gate and the wooden main door of the Afen, for that space Kurt argued with them, then found them fanning out to prevent him from the very door toward which they were tending.