'Don't,' he said, 'don't —' He did not know how to say it. 'They don't understand,' he said. 'It's better if I talk.'
'Of course. Women don't give orders. Women don't talk. Shitheads! I thought you said they felt so responsible for me!'
'They do,' he said. 'But they're young men. Fanatics. Very frightened.' And you talk to them as if they were assets, he thought, but did not say.
'Well so am I frightened!' she said, with a little
spurt of tears. She wiped her eyes and sat down again among the papers. 'God,' she said. 'We've been dead for twenty days. Buried for fifteen. Who do you think they buried?'
Her grip was powerful; his wrist and hand hurt.
He massaged the place gently, watching her.
'Thank you,' he said. 'I would have hit him.'
'Oh, I know. Goddamn chivalry. And the one with the gun would have blown your head off.
Listen, Teyeo. Are you sure all you have to do is get word to somebody in the Army or the Guard?'
'Yes, of course.'
'You're sure your country isn't playing the same game as Gatay?'
He stared at her. As he understood her, slowly the anger he had stifled and denied, all these interminable days of imprisonment with her, rose in him, a fiery flood of resentment, hatred, and contempt.
He was unable to speak, afraid he would speak to her as the young Patriot had done.
He went around to his side of the room and sat on his side of the mattress, somewhat turned from
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her. He sat cross-legged, one hand lying lightly in the other.
She said some other things. He did not listen or reply.
After a while she said, 'We're supposed to be talking, Teyeo. We've only got an hour. I think those kids might do what we tell them, if we tell them something plausible — something that'll work.'
He would not answer. He bit his lip and held still.
'Teyeo, what did I say? I said something wrong.
I don't know what it was. I'm sorry.'
'They would — ' He struggled to control his lips and voice. 'They would not betray us.'
'Who? The Patriots?'
He did not answer.
'Voe Deo, you mean? Wouldn't betray us?'
In the pause that followed her gentle, incredulous question, he knew that she was right; that it was all collusion among the. powers of the world;
that his loyalty to his country and service was wasted, as futile as the rest of his life- She went on talking, palliating, saying he might very well be right- He put his head into his hands, longing for tears, dry as stone.
She crossed the line. He felt her hand on his shoulder.
'Teyeo, I am very sorry,' she said. 'I didn't mean to insult you! I honor you. You've been all my
hope and help.'
'It doesn't matter,' he said. 'If I — If we had some water.'
She leapt up and battered on the door with her fists and a sandal.
FOUR WAYS TO FORGIVENESS
'Bastards, bastards,' she shouted.
Teyeo got up and walked, three steps and turn, three steps and turn, and halted on his side of the room. 'If you're right,' he said, speaking slowly and formally, 'we and our captors are in danger not only from Gatay but from my own people, who may . . . who have been furthering these anti-Government factions, in order to make an excuse to bring troops here ... to pacify Gatay. That's why they know where to find the factionalists. We are ... we're lucky our group were . . . were genuine.'
She watched him with a tenderness that he
found irrelevant.
'What we don't know,' he said, 'is what side the Ekumen will take. That is ... There really is only one side.'
'No, there's ours, too. The underdogs. If the Embassy sees Voe Deo pulling a takeover of Gatay, they won't interfere, but they won't approve.
Especially if it involves as much repression as it seems to.'
'The violence is only against the anti-Ekumen factions.'
'They still won't approve. And if they find out I'm alive, they're going to be quite pissed at the people who claimed I went up in a bonfire. Our problem is how to get word to them. I was the only person representing the Ekumen in Gatay, Who'd be a safe channel?'
'Any of my men. But. . .'
'They'll have been sent back; why keep Embassy Guards here when the Envoy's dead and buried? I suppose we could try. Ask the boys to try,
that is.' Presently she said wistfully, 'I don't sup-Forgiveness Day
pose they'd just let us go — in disguise? It would be the safest for them.'
'There is an ocean,' Teyeo said.
She beat her head. 'Oh, why don't they bring some water....' Her voice was like paper sliding on paper. He was ashamed of his anger, his grief, himself. He wanted to tell her that she had been a help and hope to him too, that he honored her, that she was brave beyond belief; but none of the words would come- He felt empty, worn- out. He felt old. If only they would bring water!
Water was given them at last; some food, not much and not fresh. Clearly their captors were in hiding and under duress. The spokesman — he gave them his war-name, Kergat, Gatayan for Liberty — told them that whole neighborhoods had been cleared out, set afire, that Voe Dean troops were in control of most of the city including the Palace, and
that almost none of this was being reported in the net. 'When this is over Voe Deo will own my country,' he said with disbelieving fury.
'Not for long,' Teyeo said.
'Who can defeat them?' the young man said.
'Yeowe. The idea of Yeowe.'
Both Kergat and Solly stared at him.
'Revolution,' he said. 'How long before Werel becomes New Yeowe?'
'The assets?' Kergat said, as if Teyeo had suggested a revolt of cattle or of flies. 'They'll never organise.'
'Look out when they do,' Teyeo said mildly.
'You don't have any assets in your group?' Solly asked Kergat, amazed. He did not bother to answer. He had classed her as an asset, Teyeo saw. He under-
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stood why; he had done so himself, in the other life, when such distinctions made sense.
'Your bondswoman, Rewe,' he asked Solly — 'was she a friend?'
'Yes,' Solly said, then, 'No. I wanted her to be.' 'The makil?'
After a pause she said, 'I think so.'
'Is he still here?'
She shook her head. 'The troupe was going on with their tour, a few days after the Festival.'
'Travel has been restricted since the Festival,' Kergat said. 'Only government and troops.'
'He's Voe Dean- If he's still here, they'll probably send him and his troupe home. Try and contact
him, Kergat.'
'A makil?' the young man said, with that same distaste and incredulity. 'One of your Voe Dean homosexual clowns?'
