Page 55 of Humans Don't Have Horns
I gasp at the sweet flavor. “Damn Renyans.” Damn them all for pushing us to the swamps, degrading us by forcing us to eat and breathe what no one else would find worthy.
“It’s good,” I say and take another slice.
“I’d better save some for Emek, or she’ll make me sleep outside the tent again,” he chuckles.
“The woman terrorizes you.” I shake my head. They make the funniest couple.
“Over a hundred years already. May she terrorize me a hundred more.” He grins. It’s so strange that they can be in love after so long. I can’t stand a guy for more than two days. A hundred years sounds like a nightmare.
“She said you were upset,” he adds, finally getting to the point, the reason he came to me in the first place. She most likely sent him.
“Oh Goddess, did sherunto tell you? It was just now.”
He ignores me and asks, “You want to talk to your uncle about it, kid?”
“You do realize I’m fifty, right?” I roll my eyes at him.
“You’ll always be a kid to me.” He smiles his soft, loving smile.
But I don’t have words in me anymore. I feel drained from my outburst toward Daton and his lame reaction. So we stay quiet for a while.
“Your father loves you, you know.” His voice takes on a solemn note.
“Bahar, she is a Shavir. The fucking Princess of Aldon and Renya. What will the people say? How can they follow him into battle if he chooses the enemy’s blood over our own?”
“You are young, even if you are not a kid anymore. You were born after the Oblivion. After the Emancipator struck the Shavirs for the first time.” He says pensively, “But once, we were not a nation of warriors. The fighting is new to us. Before the Oblivion, we lived in peace. We were always stronger than the Shavirs, but they had not even known it. We were fine with the little we had. We only wanted to live quietly, work on our crafts, celebrate our holidays, and raise our children. We were makers. That was what we were. And after the Oblivion and before Daton became what he is now, we were victims. It’s a shitty word, but I don’t think there is a better one for what we were back then. It took us too long to adjust to the new reality that emerged. It took us Daton to lead the way. But now we are warriors. They call us murderers. Maybe we are both. Maybe we are all of it, the makers, the victims, the warriors, and the murderers.” He sighs. “I think she can be good for him.”
I start to protest, but he ignores me and keeps talking.
“I think Lian reminds him he was once something else. And if he forgets that, all that is left is what they made him become. Maybe all of us could use a reminder that we are more than what they made us. That before the Shavirs, we were something else. Something more.”
I twirl one of the white flowers, tears in my eyes.
“Niss, look at me. I know you don’t share blood, but he loves you no less than any other father. Even more, because I have never met anyone who loves or hates as strongly as him. He also has a crappyway of showing his feelings since Baghiva. He was different then, but it is what it is. So just remember that, all right? Whatever happens, your father loves you until his last breath and, after that, among the stars. No woman can change that, Shavir or not. OK, kid?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lian
I sit on my pallet in my tent, hugging my legs and resting my chin on my knees. Staring into nothing and waiting for the hammering in my head to stop.
Emek enters and throws herself at my pallet. “Well, that went the worst way possible.”
I grunt my agreement. Again, I feel like the most inadequate person for the task. Not that Niska’s carnal demonstration helped. What was she thinking doing something like that to an Aldonian military man?
“I’m worried, Lian.” She gives me a pointed look.
“I’m worried too.”
She jumps up, throws her hands into the air, and cries out, “That doesn’t make me feel better.” She starts pacing the tent nervously. “Why can’t you ever lie like all the other Shavirs?” she mutters in annoyance. I assume she’s not waiting for an answer, so I just tighten my hold around my legs, desperate for comfort.
She pauses her pacing. “Even if our warriors can fight the demichads by themselves, and that’s a big if, what will stop your brother from killing them while they are in the canyon?”
I don’t believe Nikanor to be the monster she implies, but that’s hardly enough to put her at ease. It doesn’t even put me at ease.
“It just seems that it would be safer to tell the Aldonians to fuck off. They are more risk than help,” Emek declares.
I shake my head. “Amada was clear about this. They must take part.”
