Page 68 of Something Human

After they had been silent for a long time, Adares said, “I suppose this is what some men make do with—living separate lives, pursuing their own careers, and meeting every few months for a day or two.”

“Ah yes? Do they?”

“Well, some men in Pheme, certainly. Men in public life, who couldn’t afford to have a lover openly. Like I was talking about earlier. Could you be content with that, do you think?”

“Of course.” It was the only possible answer. A future in which he could still see Adares occasionally, still lie down with him like this, no matter how long they might have to wait in between times? Of course he could be content with that. He looked at Adares and realized it suddenly. “You couldn’t.”

“No, I … If you are happy, then … ” He pushed himself up, away from Rus, and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. It’s not the time to talk about the future, and I didn’t really mean … I didn’t expect you to say yes.”

He managed to salvage the mood, after that, by asking some ridiculous question about the stone circle, and they were soon laughing and teasing each other again. But Rus had not missed the effort it had taken Adares to turn back to a lighter topic.

CHAPTER XXII

THE PHEMIANS WERE to spend a week in Gunthanaruth’s village. The day after that morning at the stone circle was entirely taken up with a game of hargan. Rus played in the morning, and in the afternoon he swapped positions with Kuth so he could sit among the spectators with Adares and explain the game to him. Adares said that by the end of the day he thought he understood what was going on.

The day after that, Gunthanaruth took the Phemians out hunting again, and Suthus returned from the village with the omen. A herd of cattle had been seen in White-Water Valley, a couple of hours’ ride from the headman’s village, and the kahar hall was full of talk about the first bull-hunt of the year. Rus saw Adares in the evening at the headman’s hearth, where they were able to talk, almost without pretence, in Luth and in Firhat Kosoth, with Gunthanaruth beaming on them with obvious satisfaction at having caused them to become such good friends.

The rest of the Phemians were enjoying themselves. Some of them were surprisingly good at hargan, and others seemed to be keen hunters. They were all enthusiastic about the food and drink in the headman’s hall, and the scenery—they raved about the mountains. A couple of them had made friends among the village women, and the women reported that as suitors they behaved themselves very well.

Rus had not been able to find another opportunity to ride out alone with Adares. He had his own duties, and Adares was busy being entertained by the headman and the rest of the tribe, being shown horses, and touring forges, and meeting all the important members of the skar who had been able to come to the headman’s village on short notice. Of course he was also shown around the kahar hall, and expressed an interest in their duties and ceremonies which was probably not even feigned, and one night he dined with Kuth and Genet and their family, and of course Rus was there too. They served hashvash made with raw meat, and Adares loved it. All in all, it was a wonderful week.

There was one evening of it left—the Phemians were set to leave the following morning—and Rus and Adares had sat at dinner in the headman’s hall as usual. By now it seemed natural for Rus to say, “Come for a walk with me,” as he rose from his seat, and for Adares to excuse himself casually to Gunthanaruth and rise to follow him. Everyone knew the headman of Tios strolled about without attendants when it suited him, and besides, when he was with the deputy stathan of the kahar, there was nothing undignified about it.

They walked down beside the horse paddock as they had the first night, stopping at the top of the hill at the back.

“I’m afraid we don’t have time to do anything,” Rus said, and then felt crass, as if he had accused Adares of caring only about one thing. “I mean … ”

“I know what you mean,” said Adares. He slung an arm around Rus’s shoulders and pulled him gently against his side. “We have time to do this.”

“Yes. And I wanted to give you something.”

He slipped his hand under the overlapping edge of his kilt, where he had concealed a small gold pin. He unpinned it and drew it out, fastening the clasp again before holding it out in his palm. It was a pin he’d had for years, beautifully enamelled with the figure of a bird. He held his hand out so that it caught the warm rays of the setting sun.

“It’s lovely,” said Adares, looking but not reaching for it.

“It’s for you.”

“Yes.” Still he didn’t reach for it. His arm was still warm around Rus’s shoulders. “I remember. It’s a love token. You give it to a girl when you’re courting.”

“I couldn’t buy a new one to give you—it would seem too odd a thing for a kahar to do—but this is one I’ve had for a long time. I thought … you might like that better.”

Adares drew a breath and let it out. “I am sorry, Rus. I can’t take it.”

But you love me! Rus almost blurted out. He felt cold in spite of the warmth of the evening, in spite of Adares’s arm around him.

“You can’t?”

“I can’t promise to be faithful to you if we go six months at a time without seeing one another, Rus. Not if that’s how it would be for the rest of our lives. I wish I could. I believe you could—it’s one of the amazing things about you.”

“I wouldn’t ask it of you,” Rus said quickly. “I don’t have any other options, but I wouldn’t expect you to wait for me.”

Adares withdrew his arm and clasped his own shoulder with his hand. “You’d just like to pick up where we left off whenever we can manage to meet?”

“Isn’t that the best we could do?”

“It is. But … I can’t promise I could do that for very long.”

“Ah. No.” He remembered things Adares had said earlier in the week and realized he should have known this. But he hadn’t, and it felt as if there was a crack in the bottom of the world and everything was draining out. “I understand. You want to be faithful to someone.”