Page 70 of Something Human

“I don’t think he knows his duty,” Genet snapped. She turned and stalked into the house.

Kuth sighed. “I’ve known for years that the reason you never looked at girls was because you like men. I’ve told her before now, but she wouldn’t hear it. She thought I was making it up because I was jealous, that I didn’t like her having such a high opinion of you. There may have been a bit of truth to that. Still, I was right.”

“Yes,” said Rus hollowly. He put his hands over his face. “I didn’t know.”

“I could never think of a way to talk to you about it. I always sort of hoped you might find someone else like you. In fact, I used to wonder about you and … I won’t tell you who, because you’d think it was ridiculous. Anyway, when I saw you with the Phemian archon, I knew I’d been wrong, because this was what you looked like in love. And, uh. He’s very … ”

“‘You would fall off your horse,’” Rus supplied from behind his hands.

“That, yeah. You must have … Over the winter, you must have missed him.”

“Yes.”

“And now he’s going back to Tios. Do you think you can find a way to go there and see him?”

“No. He doesn’t want us to go on being lovers if we can’t be together permanently.”

Kuth was silent for a while. Finally he said, “I can understand that.” He looked down at the mortar in his hands. “It’s getting too dark to work. Come in the house with me.”

“I don’t think Genet wants me in there.”

“You can’t leave things like this. You two have always been friends.”

He followed Kuth into the house. He felt numb, as if he was moving in a dream—definitely not a good dream, this time. Genet was sitting by the hearth, in the lamplight. She gave them both a hard look as they came in.

“What now?” she asked, her voice low because of the sleeping children. “Are you taking your leave, or … ”

“We thought—I thought—perhaps you were going to leave with the Phemians,” said Kuth, in explanation. “That’s why I brought it up.”

“I can’t.” He felt as though he would choke on the words. “How could I?”

“I don’t know how you can stay,” Genet retorted. “It seems to me you left this tribe a long time ago.”

“I did not,” Rus snapped back. “Kuth was right. I have done my duty. I didn’t ask to be made Suthus’s deputy—I didn’t want it, you know that very well. I’ve said again and again I wasn’t worthy of it, that I didn’t really have a vision, that the gods wouldn’t have chosen me for that. Did you need me to spell out exactly why?”

She stared into the ashes in the hearth instead of looking at him. “That night … after the Phemians first arrived, when I came looking for the dog. He wasn’t—Phyleros, he wasn’t really bathing in the stream, was he?”

“He went into the water because he couldn’t think of any other way to account for having lost his clothes.” It was really very funny, and he felt suddenly angry that they could not laugh about it together now.

“I thought you were holy,” she said again. “I feel a fool.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, but it didn’t sound sincere.

He was still standing inside the door, while she sat by her hearth. Kuth had gone to put away his medicine in one of the chests by the wall. Rus wondered if he should excuse himself, or just turn and leave, but nothing seemed to have been resolved. He’d come in feeling miserable, and now he was angry with it. He didn’t see why she needed to take this as some sort of insult to herself.

“He complimented me, you know. On your tattoos.” She looked up at him. “He’s seen them all, hasn’t he?”

That just seemed petty, and it made him even angrier. “Yeah. He’s particularly fond of what you did with my dick.”

“That—that—that is a sacred marking that signifies the—that your—that—”

“That my seed is set apart and must not be used procreate—and I promise you, it hasn’t.”

“That’s not—”

“It is what it means!” He struggled to keep his voice down. “If you were going to say it means something else, something about purity, you’ve been listening to Unumus too much.”

“Unumus! Unumus is a crank.”