Message-ID: <25070asstr$963144614@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <20000708083157.25929.qmail@nym.alias.net> From: Delta Subject: {ASSM} RP "A Question of Honour" by Delta 2\5 (MF) Date: Sun, 9 Jul 2000 08:10:14 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, IceAltar RE Should you wish to comment upon my story, I can be reached by E-mail at: delta @ nym . alias . net Comments and critizisms are welcome. Standard disclaimers: This is a work of fiction - no character within is a depiction of any real person, living or dead. No place or event described within exists outside of the writer's imagination. Copyright retained by the author and this post is for private use of the reader only. It is not to be published in any form whatsoever, including being made available on BBSs, or on Web Pages, without the express prior consent of author. Any readers who are underage in the jurisdiction in which they reside are asked to please pass by. Delta. A QUESTION OF HONOUR Part 2 The transition from sleep to consciousness was instantaneous. The body and mind had been so trained. There was no pain. The ache of misused muscles, yes; pain, no. She had not shot him after all. He was neither surprised nor relieved. It was simply more information. Indeed, if his senses were to be believed, far from not having shot him, she had taken him into her bed. The warmth she radiated was on the high side of comfortable. He knew it was a she, for his arm lay over her and his hand cupped a breast. Suddenly it dawned on him - he was naked, and she as well. The man opened his eyes. The night was upon them, yet the great moon bathed the land with its soft light. The dark head in front of him blocked his sight, but not his sense of smell. There was the smell of sex in the air. This surprised him. He had not thought himself capable of it, and there was no memory. Had she simply used him while he slept? Interesting thought. He was thirsty. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he backed away and out from under the blanket. The canteen was there, ready at hand, as were his weapons. He was not captive, then. He uncapped the canteen and drank deeply, feeling the coolness of the water spread throughout his body. A trickle of water escaped his mouth and ran down his chin. He brushed it away with his hand . . . he had been shaven. How long had he been here? His body had been cleaned also. He felt himself over, and discovered that he was clean and fresh. The smell of sex had not come from their coupling, then. It came from her alone. He drank again, feeling life flow back into his body. He felt the breeze on his skin, blowing the through the little hairs, enlivening his senses. He could not remember the last time he had been aware of such feelings. It was as if his body was returning to life after a long sleep. He marveled at the intensity of the sensations. The smell of the damp grass was heavy on the night air, the richness of the aroma almost overpowering. It reminded him of somewhere, sometime long, long ago. It reminded him, also, that he was hungry. After he had run out of water, he had stopped eating. One needed water to digest. Eating his dried rations would have robbed his body of valuable moisture. His pack was against a tree and he found some of those dried rations within and began to chew on them. How many times he had eaten of them, he knew not. He knew only that never before had he noticed the texture, the taste, so vividly. It was good to be alive once again - or was it? For a time he sat and contemplated the night sky, finally deciding that, yes, it *was* good to be alive once more. He shivered in the cool night air then yawned. Being alive was tiring. He still needed to catch up on his sleep, to regain his strength. Another decision awaited him. Should he return to the woman or should he sleep elsewhere? It was strange, this deciding. The others moved by rote, he could not afford to do so. Care had to be taken else he would slip back - no, that was unthinkable. He would return, he decided. If he left her like this, she might be insulted. In the morning he would discuss it with the woman. Takene had awakened when the man had left her bed. She listened intently, without moving, trying to follow what he was doing by the sounds he made. It was with relief that she felt him slip in behind her once more. His skin was cool from the night air, yet felt good against her back as he snuggled into her once more. She enjoyed the long missed feeling of having a man in her bed. A smile came to her lips, then quickly faded as she remembered just who the man was, and what she had to do. His arm came over her again. This time, however, the hand rested lightly on the sheet beside her. After a few minutes she placed her hand over his, then slowly brought it back up to cradle her breast. There was no resistance to the move and she held it there a while, allowing him to further relax, before taking the next step. It would be a betrayal of the memory of her man, yet it was necessary. Her duty was paramount, her feelings would have to be shunted aside. The man allowed his hand to be moved up to hold her breast once more. He wondered why she had done this, but there were too many possibilities to do more than hazard a guess, so he simply allowed that it had happened. He closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep once more. Something was preventing that, something called for his attention. He had it. She was moving her bottom, moving it minutely only, yet moving it nonetheless. Just enough that he would realize it was being done - if he concentrated. He almost laughed out loud. Now that he realized what was happening, there was no way he could do anything except concentrate on it, and it was beginning to have an effect on him. Yes, he could feel the first stirrings in his loins, and the more he tried to put it from his mind, the more central became the focus. The slight rubbing was causing him to become hard. The question was: What did he wish to do about it? The one before would not have asked that question, therefore he did. Another question claimed his awareness - did she realize what she was doing and, if she did, was she doing it purposefully? Slowly he disengaged his hand, then he turned over and faced the other way. These were other matters to bring up with the woman in the morning. He still remained in contact with her, however, his bottom lightly touching hers. Takene was both relieved and frustrated. She was relieved that the moment had been postponed, yet frustrated that her advance had been rejected. She knew that her motion had had the desired effect, he had been hardening nicely, so why did he turn away? This was unlike the man, if her information about him was correct. Perhaps, she thought, she was moving too fast. She would draw him out in the morning. She smiled. At least she knew he reacted to her - and he hadn't broken contact entirely. It occurred to her that she was tired as well. She turned over, herself, and put her arm around him. It was good to have a man in her bed, she thought, once again, as sleep claimed her. When he opened his eyes, the sun was well up. It was almost noon. The woman was preparing a meal and the two youngsters were sitting about the small cook fire. He looked about him and saw his clothes were laid out, ready for him. He exited the bed and began dressing, unconcerned by his nakedness. They had seen all there was to see when they cleaned him, so why bother to hide anything. The woman looked up and smiled at him. Her face may have smiled, but her eyes were guarded. He nodded at her. It had been so long since he had last spoken that he wondered if he still knew how. "Good morning," he said as he walked up to the group. It came out roughly and he tried hard to soften the tone. "Thank you for what you did for me." They looked at him in silence, uncomprehending. He tried a different tack. "The food smells good. Can I help?" Again he was met with uncomprehending silence. "How long have I been here?" Already he was tired of talking. The woman began to speak, but he did not understand her language. The children obviously understood everything she was saying, yet only the odd word was familiar to him. He recognized her language as she, no doubt, recognized his. Unfortunately, neither knew both. "Takene." The woman pointed at herself. "Iro," at the young woman who was looking at him very intently. "Lere," at the boy. She then pointed at him and waited. He understood these were the names of the three and that they waited for him to give his, yet he had not yet chosen a name for himself. "Takene. Iro. Lere." The woman repeated, then pointed at him once again, a questioning look on her face. The man looked at the sky, the rocks, the grass, the spring. Nothing came to mind. He shrugged his shoulders. The fact that the man did not speak her language secretly pleased Takene. Without language it would be more difficult, perhaps impossible, for him to tell her why what she wanted of him was impossible. The apparent fact that he could not remember his name pleased her somewhat less. Was he trying to hide his identity, or was he suffering from some sort of amnesia? Again she repeated their names and awaited his response. Again he looked around, as if lost, before finally shrugging once more. She pursed her lips, then shrugged herself. "Takene." She pointed at herself. "Iro." She indicated the young woman. "Lere." The boy became her focus, then she pointed at the man. "Riltan," Takene smiled at him. He looked at her a moment, then agreed. "Takene, Iro, Lere, Riltan." He indicated each of them in turn, himself last. Iro's head had come up sharply when she heard Takene, and Takene wondered at that, then the knowledge of what she had done was upon her, and her face flushed under Iro's gaze. Riltan, too, had noticed Iro's reaction. There was, however, too little information to try to reach any conclusions. He filed away the information. Riltan. He considered the name. He shrugged. It was a name. Takene had taken the trouble to name him when he could not. How did he feel about it? Acceptable. It was acceptable. He was Riltan. Riltan accepted the food from Takene and the four sat down to the meal. The air was fresh and sweet, with the light aroma of the dew wetted grass lingering on. The sun warmed him, relaxed him. How long had it been since he had truly relaxed? The food - well, the food was food. He decided that it tasted good and nodded his thanks to Takene. She gave him a smile in return, then arose and left. Iro and Lere were discussing something, but he didn't understand the words, so he simply allowed the sound to wash over him. Concentrating on it hurt. "What's the matter with 'Riltan'?" Lere asked. "Being a 'seeker' is nothing bad." "It isn't the name, stupid, it's what she did," Iro replied, frustrated by his ignorance. "Well, are you going to tell me, or is it some big secret?" Lere was annoyed. He hated being called stupid, or treated as if he were. "It's part of the marriage ceremony. At the end. The woman gives her husband-to-be a name, a private name, by which he will be known by her. If he accepts the name, he accepts the woman as his wife." Iro tried to be patient. It wasn't that long ago that she had been in his place. The teasing had been quite unbearable. "You mean they're married?" Lere asked, astounded. "No, well, yes - no. It's confusing. It's just not done, what the Guardian did." Iro wasn't sure just what the legalities of the situation were, wasn't happy with it at all and wasn't sure why. "The rest of the ceremony wasn't done, the beginning. I don't know. Maybe they are." She became silent as Takene returned. "What's up?" Takene asked. "Nothing, Guardian," Lere answered. "We were wondering when we were going to leave for Slindaria. Soon? Will Riltan be coming with us?" Takene smiled, not taken in at all by the lie. "No, Lere, not soon. He is still weak. He will need some time to recover, and even then I am not sure he will come with us. We are not ready either. We will need to go back to the Caravan to get more supplies." The faces of the two reflected the horror that Takene, herself, suppressed. "It has to be done. You saw what Riltan was like when he came out of the Wastelands. Without first getting supplies, that will be our condition *if* we are lucky enough to reach Slindaria at all. "Do you think Riltan will be coming with us?" Iro asked. "I'll do my best to convince him to," Takene replied. "By taking him into your bed - being his woman?" Takene was taken aback by the vehemence of her question. Where did that come from? She looked at Iro, gauging what she might say and what would be best to not say. "As Guardian, it is my job to get you to Slindaria. I will accomplish that task in any manner I see fit. If it means taking Riltan into my bed, being his woman, as you so delicately put it, and having sex with him every night, that is what I'll do. Is that clear?" Iro nodded reluctantly, yet did not back down at all. "Are you offended by that," she paused momentarily as an idea hit her, "or is it that you wish that particular job for yourself?" Iro flushed furiously and Takene groaned under her breath, realizing her hunch had been correct. The gods were not being good to her after all. Riltan glanced from face to face as the words sharpened. Takene was angry about something, and that something had to do with him, for he heard his name. Iro was flushed and angry as well. Perhaps it would be best if he left them. Lere appeared worried and looked from one to the other, occasionally stealing a glance at him as well. Riltan stood and the women became silent. "I'll take a walk," he said, and met their blank stares. He pointed at himself then described a broad circle taking in some of the surrounding area. Takene nodded. Riltan went to his possessions and put on his hat and picked up his shoulder weapon. There was no sense taking chances. Takene had a sudden inspiration. "Lere." The boy looked up expectantly. "Yes, Guardian?" "Go with him. Watch how he moves, what he does. Learn." "What if he doesn't want me to go?" The boy was hesitant. "We'll deal with that if it comes up. Now hurry, he's leaving." Lere went scampering after Riltan who stopped short and turned, a slightly raised eyebrow marking his question. Takene hid a smile as she heard Lere trying to explain to Riltan in a language he didn't understand. Finally Lere simply pointed at her and shrugged. Riltan shrugged also and allowed the boy to go with him. "Why did you do that?" It was more than a question, it was a demand for information. Iro was developing her independence, it seemed. It was not good timing. "I have my reasons, Iro." "What are they? He's my brother, I have a right to know." "No you do not." Takene was determined to stop this mini-revolt in its tracks. "I am doing what is best for all of us, and you will do as I tell you. As Guardian . . ." "You are no longer my Guardian, Takene." Iro stood defiantly. It was the first time she'd called Takene by name and she tried to disguise her nervousness. "I reached the age of majority five days ago. You have no more authority over me." 'Gods of the Skies and Trees, will nothing be easy?' Takene wondered to herself. She brought herself into balance for there were things that had to be done. Her anger was gone as if it never were there. "You are right, Sister," Iro flushed with pleasure at Takene's acceptance of her as an equal, "yet in this time of danger you must give way before my greater experience. Discussion of that can wait, however - there are forms to be followed. You must be properly welcomed into womanhood. You have no blood relations here, thus I will be your surrogate Aunt." She spoke ritually, "Even as I sent Lere with the man so that he might learn from his vast experience, so must you come with me, for I have the knowledge of the woman to impart to you." Iro had been expecting a battle. This sudden turn left her speechless. She looked at Takene with a new respect. "That is not the only reason you sent Lere with Riltan, is it?" Now it was no longer a demand. It was a question - one woman to another. "You are correct, Iro. It is risky, yet I sense that Riltan is seeking - thus the name - and I hope he will bond with the boy and thus want to protect him." She brushed back her long black hair. "Make no mistake - Riltan is our best hope of reaching Slindaria safely." That he also might be their greatest danger, Takene did not share. Lere walked behind Riltan, wondering what he was supposed to learn. As they came out from the cover of the sparse vegetation, Riltan stopped. Wanting to get a better look, Lere made to climb to a vantage point but was stopped by Riltan's grasp on his shoulder. He looked up questioningly, a little afraid, for the grasp was rough. Riltan frowned. How to explain it? He held up one finger, moved his forked fore and index fingers to his eye then pointed with them at the landscape as if they were eyes, looking over the scene. He then held up two fingers, waited a moment, then walked his fingers across the palm of his other hand. Understanding came into Lere's eyes. He nodded. Riltan considered what he had done, then nodded to himself. He repeated the signs, this time twisting his wrist sharply when making the sign for 'one' and for 'two'. The boy understood. Lere repeated the signs back to Riltan who nodded. Together they watched over the terrain until Riltan decided it was safe to continue, then moved out to the vantage point Lere had originally been heading for. There was no one to be seen. They headed back into the vegetation describing a circle around the camp. The wood opened up into a small meadow and Lere, who had been in the lead, stopped. He looked up at Riltan and signed. Riltan nodded solemnly. He brought one fist, index finger pointing, down onto the other, repeated the gesture and nodded his head. Together they moved out into the sun. There was a small concavity in the earth, running like a shallow trench backed by higher ground and Riltan sighed and lowered himself. It made a wonderful spot to lie back and relax, looking out over the meadow. Lere joined him and began asking for more signs. As Riltan taught him the signs for grass, trees, water and other objects which they could see, he wondered why he was doing this. He would be leaving shortly, wouldn't he? A day or two to rest, then back on the trail again, getting as far away from the Wastelands as he could. Why try to communicate with the boy - with any of them, for that matter? There were so many things he had to work out - to discover who he was, what he was. Things better done alone. Or were they? Perhaps these were things which could only be discovered through interaction with others. No. It didn't matter, it was best he leave. Yet, deep inside, Riltan knew he would not abandon these three - not yet. When he pondered why, the only reason he could think of was that staying was not what the one before would have done. For now that was answer enough, yet he could not build a life being the antithesis of the one before. Riltan stopped thinking, allowing himself to feel the warmth of the sun on his closed eyes, the breeze on his cheek, the solid support of the earth beneath him. He relaxed and breathed deeply of the scented air. That there must be flowers about was the last thought he remembered. He was on his feet, weapon at the ready, eyes cold and hard seeking out the danger. The boy shrank from him, face contorted with shock and fear. Slowly Riltan relaxed, as it came to him that the boy had merely shaken him to wakefulness. , he signed. "Didn't mean to scare you, lad." He knew the boy could not understand the words, yet hoped he would understand the tone. Lere calmed down and Riltan tousled his hair. The sun had moved a fair distance. It was becoming late. The women would be wondering what was keeping them.