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.After the others had gone back to their places, he shared the same measures of food and water with Norit and Hati, then slept.By now they made one bundle, their hands resting comfortably on one another, while the storm continued outside.There were needs of nature: there was the latrine in the tent, the sand pit in the back left corner.Since the flaps were down; it was not possible to go outside, and the utter dark, more than the curtain, gave a general modesty.At one point the potter told a bawdy story, and the orchardman told another.He listened, and Hati jabbed him in the ribs, laughing, and began to trouble him again, which he did not refuse.Norit settled against him, soft and gentle, as different from Hati as night from dark; and in time Norit had her pleasure, too.no difference to her, it seemed, how it came, only that it came, and she kissed him and proved her gratitude.He feared the other men in the tent might think he had too much of a good thing, and they had nothing but the potter’s stories.What they had started, the others had to know, and must be jealous.Still, he was omi, lord, and it was the nature of the world that lords had, and common men lacked.Was it not the Ila’s law? Was it not the world the Ila had made, since the First Descended?6710.01 5/31/01 11:52 AM Page 7878 • C.J.C H E R RY H“Is it not evening?” one asked, wanting water, and he said no until three and four came asking.He thought he was right about the time, and held to it, and no one defied him.After that, Norit claimed her turn first.He came to know for certain in the dark that there was every virtue in Norit, except sanity.She sang against his ear.She spoke of a star to guide them east, when there was nothing but dark outside.Finally she slept a true, sweet sleep, and after she slept he was very glad to have Hati’s safe arms about him and Hati’s strong body against his.Into Norit’s madness a man could sink and lose himself, bit by bit.Hati was the storm wind itself, a force, a demand for movement and resourcefulness.But in Norit the demons lived and had full possession.Both of them still drew from him the best of his nature, Norit, that patience and compassion he had had only for what he protected, and Hati, that sense of life and challenge for its own sake that he had lost somewhere on the Lakht, in his father’s wars.He felt sorry for Norit; but he felt wholly alive when he held Hati.She was a match for him, completely unlike any match the ambitious villages had tried to send him when he was Tain’s son.No, he had said, rejecting some, and no, his father had said, never suspecting that any of those very sane girls would think him a bad bargain, never suspecting he said no for fear of discovery.But now he owned himself met, matched, mated with a creature that would never give back a step from his most outrageous actions, never fear his madness, never hesitate.Hati, he said to himself, but there was no speech in the howling thunder above them.On the next day, that day he had been so sure the storm would pass, a pole tore loose and they had to go out, the four or five among them who understood how to pitch a tent, and secure the ropes.The air had chilled.The sun had been cut off from the sand so long the air and the sand itself had turned bitter cold.With fingernails broken to the quick by the dry sand they dug for the eye of the deep-stake bolt and found it by the ragged scrap of rope left to it, still warm from the heat of days ago.They dug down to it and rigged a new line.Then they retreated, shivering and coughing and wiping grit from their eyes and their noses and the edges of their mouths.The storm continued to batter them, and his two days bid now to 6710.01 5/31/01 11:52 AM Page 79H A M M E R FA L L • 79be a lie.He was ashamed of having promised those who trusted him a relief he could not deliver; but at least they had saved the tent.Within hours, however, the wind was quieter.A look out the flap proved there was something like light beyond the walls, a transpar-ent red promising the storm had indeed eased, but there was no view of anything farther than the tent stake nearest the door, and a man dared not expose the eyes or any more of the skin than he must.Marak ducked his head back inside, and answered anxious questions with, “It’s a little quieter.”One could hear it.The thunder of the canvas was muted: it had boomed and racketed so he thought he would lose what he had left of his reason, and now it was an occasional spate of wind.But, chilled, he was doubly glad to find his mat and his comfort again, and find Hati’s arms and Norit’s to comfort him and to brush the dust from his hair and his clothing.His throat was dry as the dust he had breathed.He was keeper of the food and water and could have had more; he could have given more to the men who had helped with the rope, but he honestly had no notion who they were and wished to open no doors to dispute.He simply advised himself and all of them to the same ration.He slept, exhausted, the whole world seeming to spin about and fall to the east.And after that short sleep, he waked to a near silence in the wind.He stirred, drew on his robe against the chill, and pulled up his aifad against the dust that must still be moving.He unlaced the flap as others of their tentmates stirred, and he peered out at the other tents through the reddened, dust-choked air.There had been four tents in his field of view when the storm began.Now there were only three.He tried to figure their positions, thinking one might still be veiled in dust.But there was a gap, right next to them.Ropes had failed.The tent nearest them had gone.He took a lap of the aifad about his head to shield his eyes from the grit and dust, went out and scanned nearer the ground, looking for any lump of canvas where survivors might have secured a sec-ondary hold against the wind.Hati had come out behind him, so had the au’it, and so had the several who had helped him save their own tent.“Stay here!” he said to Hati, not wishing to leave the water and 6710.01 5/31/01 11:52 AM Page 8080 • C.J.C H E R RY Hfood to chance or the desires of villagers, and most of all wanting someone sensible who could shout him back to his own tent if the wind rose up again, as it might, in the few moments he meant to be away from shelter [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]