He glanced back at Cynara and denied the temptation to return to her side. There was no more he could give her now. His body ached, but his wounds were already healing; they must both be fit to meet the new day’s challenge. He sat in the center of the room and practiced the Eightfold Way three times before Cynara awoke.
She sat up and pushed the blankets away, seeking him in the dim light provided by the single open shutter. Her skin appeared flushed, as if in memory of their joining. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Do not be concerned,” he said. “Nothing has happened.”
She combed her fingers through her hair, ordering it as best she could, and draped one of the blankets about her shoulders. “I meant to keep watch while you slept. I’m sorry.”
“No need. Shaauri would not enter without warning.”
“But humans would. And Kinsmen are human.”
“When they come to Aitu, everyone will know.”
She swung her legs over the bunk, shook out her shipsuit, and put it on. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” He smiled, watching her small, graceful motions as if they were steps in a captivating dance. “You helped. I can still fight.”
She hesitated and then came to sit beside him. “You believe it’ll come to that?”
“The settling of disputes can be very simple, especially among Lines such as Kalevi. It is an ancient way that any shaaurin may seek if other methods prove inadequate.”
“Fighting each other?”
“Among certain Paths, yes. Among others, like those of Spirit, the competition may take a different form. Once the challenge is given and accepted, the outcome is final.”
“Those Darja warriors weren’t following the rules.”
“There are always those who behave with dishonor.”
“Then it’s the strong who ultimately conquer.”
“Not always the strongest. Sometimes it is the bravest and most determined. There are old tales of weak shaauri who defeated great warriors because of their use of what you would call psychology.”
“If it was a matter of courage, you’d win. But we’re sentient beings, Ronan, not wild animals.”
Her scorn for the shaauri cut worse than Darja nails. “You understand so little of shaauri ways. Poverty as you know it does not exist here. Each has his or her place and function, and will never starve or be cast out except as punishment for the most severe crimes. And crime itself is rare.”
“Because people’s lives are preordained by Selection. And your ne’li… aren’t they outcasts without recourse? You condemn them because they don’t fit neatly into your social structure.”
“Even ne’li are provided for by most Houses.”
“But they live on the outside, always apart.”
“Is it so unlike the way females are treated on Dharma, or those of different body shape or color or doctrine on other human worlds?”
She shook her head. “Humans make the same mistakes, Ronan. But you idealize the shaauri far too much.”
“And you judge them too harshly.” He got to his feet and offered his hand to her. “Come. There are things I would have you see.”
She took his hand. “Won’t some shaaurin or other challenge you if you go out again?”
“Not yet. And you are under my protection.”
Her dubious expression spoke almost as clearly as shaauri body-speech. “Will they think it a weakness if I keep this blanket?”
“We will go first to the weavers’ lodge and get you an outer garment.”
She tossed the blanket on the nearest bed and accompanied him to the door, casting an uneasy glance at the leaden sky. Ronan kept her close to him as he followed the labyrinthine paths between buildings to Anki-ja and the workshops of an’laik’i crafters.
Ronan was very much aware of the shaauri they passed.
Many reacted with hostility, as Cynara had observed, but others were warily cordial in ways she would not be likely to recognize. They had reason to be guarded, especially those of the more docile Paths who avoided conflict.
Yet Ronan had no doubt that if he required it, assistance would be forthcoming. Soon he would visit his old companions and renew the ba’laik’i bonds he, unique among Kalevi, maintained in adulthood.