“If only the Garkohn will leave them alone there.”
“The Garkohn will leave everyone alone for a while. They have gaping wounds to tend. Two leaders dead…” He broke off suddenly. “Why did you kill Gehl?”
“She was trying to burn my parents’ house—with all of us inside.” No need to tell him why. That was over.
“I am glad she is dead. She was as ambitious as Natahk. Wehhano will be easier to deal with. And he will keep to the valley more.” He changed the subject abruptly. “Your father asked me to send you with the Missionaries.”
She looked at him silently.
“He said you belonged with your own people. He said I had no hold on you now that Tien was dead.”
Alanna sighed and shook her head.
“I asked him if it was the Missionary way for a husband to send his wife away because their child had died.”
“He has believed one way all his life,” said Alanna. “It is hard for him to change.”
“He is not trying to change. He is trying to find reasons not to change. Reasons that prove him right.” There was harshness in his voice. It was not the first time Jules’s stubbornness had angered him.
“He will be gone soon.”
“So. And you must speak with him before he leaves.”
“I know.” Family. Among the Kohn, a kinsman was a kinsman no matter how foolishly he behaved. And Alanna found herself agreeing with them. Jules had chosen to make her his daughter, and after a time, she had chosen to accept him as her father. But she could not choose now to end the relationship. She would probably not see him again, but she would still think of him as her father, still love him. Diut was right. She had to try once more. But she did not move. She stood watching Jules, wanting to go to him, but not wanting to feel the weight of his condemning stare again. What kind of man was he that he could condemn her for saving both his life and the Mission, his reason for living? Then she saw Nathan James approaching. She made a sound of disgust. Jules’s intolerance was hard enough to take. Jules she loved. She had never loved Nathan.
Nathan came up, stared at Diut’s arm for a moment, then spoke in English. “I’d heard that you were hurt. I’m a healer, Tehkohn Hao. I can help you if you like.”
Alanna was startled, but Diut did not know enough about Nathan to be startled. He was only curious.
“Why do you want to help?”
Nathan shrugged. “You have helped us. I admit that I didn’t trust you at first, but you helped us.”
“And you wish to repay?”
“Yes.”
“There is no need. But it is good of you to offer.” He was trying to say “thanks,” Alanna realized. That was not something normally said aloud among the Kohn, and he was not accustomed to saying it even in English. Under other circumstances, he might have whitened to show gratitude, but now he was having enough trouble maintaining a steady blue in spite of his pain.
“What will you do then?” asked Nathan.
“When you have all gone, my healers will care for me.”
“They… know how to do such things?”
“We are a mountain people, healer. We learned long ago to set and bind broken bones.”
Nathan nodded doubtfully, looked once more at Diut’s arm, then turned and walked away. He had been oddly careful not to look at Alanna.
“Go to your parents,” said Diut. “Missionaries have already begun to leave. Go. Make your peace.”
She nodded, but went first to Neila. The woman was standing alone staring at the smoldering ruins of her cabin. She spoke as Alanna came up beside her.
“It didn’t take long to burn, did it?”
“No,” said Alanna. “But then, a lot of solid-looking things can be destroyed quickly.”
Neila glanced toward Jules. “Have you tried again?”
“I was about to. I will.”
“Did Nathan offer to fix Diut’s arm?”
“Yes. But I don’t know why.”
“He asked me about Diut… and you. I told him. I didn’t think it made any difference now.”
“It doesn’t.”
“He said he thought it was something like that. He said he didn’t understand how you could do such a thing, but that it was your problem. He said he was grateful to the Tehkohn for saving the settlement no matter what… you had done.”
Alanna laughed without humor. “I wonder how he manages to separate the two in his mind. He didn’t say a word to me just now. He pretended I wasn’t there.”
“Lanna, go talk to your father.”
“You should catch your wagon,” said Alanna. “The Lorenz boy is halfway to the woods with it.”
“Good-bye, Lanna.”
“Good-bye.” Oddly, neither of them seemed inclined to touch the other now. They gazed at each other for a long moment, then turned and left each other—Neila to catch her wagon, Alanna toward where Jules stood watching the wagons and people fall slowly into line.
He ignored her for several seconds, and she could feel his tenseness growing.
“What is it?” he asked finally.
“I came to say good-bye.”
It was the first time she had ever been relieved to see a look of pain cross his face. It told her, at least, that she could still reach him. He did not hate her—yet.
“How can you have veered so far from all that we tried to teach you—wanting to stay here and never see one of your own kind again.”
“Don’t think I like seeing you go—except for your own sake, of course.”
“You should be going with us.”
“You know I can’t.”
“He would let you go if you made him understand that you belonged with your own people.”
She managed a wry smile. “I doubt that. Anyway, I don’t want to leave him.”
“Then you are damned.” There was a hollow sound to his voice. The pain on his face seemed to intensify. She knew him well enough to realize that he was not just mouthing dogma as his followers sometimes did. He meant what he was saying. “You might be forgiven for what you were forced to do. But to consort voluntarily with a… a…”
“A human being,” she said. “You know how human they are.”
“Physically humanlike, perhaps. But spiritually… what god do they worship?”
“…none.”
“On Earth, even the most primitive of savages recognize some supreme being or beings, some power higher than themselves.”
“That might be true-on Earth.”
“Only animals were completely without spiritual beliefs.”
“On Earth!” And perhaps not even there. She wished she knew more Earth history. He might bend if she could show him that he was wrong in even one Earth instance.
He sighed. “It may even be that God set the Kohn here to test us, try our faith.”
She realized then that nothing she could say would alter his beliefs. She felt herself growing angry at his stubbornness, and she knew that she should leave him now, but she could not.
“Once you told the people they were wrong to condemn me for my differences,” she said. “Can you be so certain that you’re right to condemn the Kohn for theirs?”
“Their own history condemns them. They have never had spiritual beliefs. Never felt any part of themselves reach out to something greater. Perhaps that’s because like animals, they lack the part that would reach out. Perhaps they don’t have souls.”
And her anger seized her, ice cold. “That is foolishness. You know it is. Souls! When have you seen your own soul—that you’re so certain you have one? And for that matter, when have you seen your God?”
It was a mistake. She knew that before the words were out, but she had not been able to hold them back. She and Jules glared at each other in open hostility until she spoke again. “You know Diut is a man, as you are a man. Otherwise, how could I have borne his child?”
He hit her. He had never done such a thing before. He seemed surprised that he had done it now. She had not moved except as the blow moved her. She stood looking at him.
“Good-bye, Lanna.”
Her anger drained away and she looked at him sadly. “For a while, I was your daughter. Thank you for that anyway.”