“Margaret,” he said with great dignity, “she is Arle.”
“The poor child.” She had her arms about the bedraggled girl and petted her solicitously. “How did she come here?”
“Ask her. I want to know. She is a child, yes? No?”
“Yes.”
He looked upon the pair of them, women that had been his first mate and this immature being of her own species, and was deeply disturbed. He knew it was very wrong to have brought this pale creature to the dhis instead of assigning her among the kamethi, but now that it was done it was good to know that the dhis held at least one life, and that Margaret, whom he must put away, had the child he could not give her. It was an honorable solution for Margaret. It was hard to give her up. Desire still stirred in him when he looked at her, nor could she understand why he suddenly rejected her. Hurt pleaded with him out of her eyes.
“She is yours,” he told her. “I give her. You will transfer your belongings here. She is your responsibility—yes?”
“All right,” she said.
He turned away abruptly, not to be troubled more by the harachia of them. He knew that the door opened and closed, that the dhis, where no male and no nas kame or amaut might ever go, had been possessed by humans at his own bidding. He was ashamed of what he had done, but it was done now, and a strange furtive elation overrode the sense of shame. He had acquired a certain small vaikka, not alone in the disadvantaging of Chimele, but in the acquisition of the arastiethe she had decided to take from him. The dhis that had remained dark and desolate now held light, life, and takei—females; his little ship had a comfort for him now it had lacked before those lights went on and that door sealed.
The sensible part of him insisted that he had plumbed the depths of disgrace in letting this happen; but those who decreed the traditions of honor could not understand the loneliness of an arrhei-nasuli and the sweetness there was in knowing he had worth in the sight of his kamethi. It lightened his spirit, and he told himself knowingly a great lie: that he had arastiethe and a takkhenois adequate to all events. He clutched to himself what he knew was a greater lie: that he might yet outwit Ashanome and live. Like a gust of wind he stepped from the lift, grinned cheerfully at some of his startled kamethi and went on to the paredre. There were plans to make, resources to inventory.
“My lord.” Halph, assistant to the surgeon, came waddling after, operating gown and all. He bobbed his head many times in nervous respect.
“Report, Halph.”
“The chiabres is indeed present, lord Tejef. The honorable surgeon Dlechish will attempt to remove it if you wish, but removing it intact is beyond his knowledge.”
“No,” he said, for the human prisoner would be irreparably damaged by amaut probing at the chiabres if he allowed it. The human was a danger, but properly used, he could be of advantage. Kameth though he was, Chimele had most likely intended him as a spy or an assassin: against an arrhei-nasuli the neutrality of kamethi did not apply, and Chimele was not one to ignore an opportunity; the intricacy of the attempt against him that had failed delighted him. “You have not exposed it, have you?”
“No, no, my lord. We would not presume.”
“Of course. You are always very conscientious to consult me. Go back to Dlechish and tell him to leave the chiabres alone, and to take special care of the human. Remember that he can understand all that you say. If it can be done safely in his weakened condition, hold him under sedation.”
“Yes, sir.”
The little amaut went away, and Tejef spied another of the okkitani-as, a young female whom her kind honored as extraordinarily attractive. This was not apparent to iduve eyes, but he trusted her for especial discretion and intelligence.
“Toshi, collect your belongings. You are going to perform an errand for me in Weissmouth.”