torian.
Books, however, books that were the body of history, the durable reality of it, barely existed'in Stse, and his anger sought justification there. You keep the books from us, all the books in the Library of Hain! No, they said mildly. The pueblos choose not to have many books. They prefer the live knowledge, spoken or passing on the screens, passing from the breath to the breath, from living mind to living mind. Would you give up what you learned that way? Is it less than, is it inferior to what you've learned here from books? There's more than one kind of knowledge, said the historians.
By his third year, Havzhiva had decided that there was more than one kind of people. The pueblans, able to accept that existence is fundamentally arbitrary, enriched the world intellectually and spiritually. Those who couldn't be satisfied with
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mystery were more likely to be of use as historians, enriching the world intellectually and materially.
Meanwhile he had got quite used to people who had no lineage, no relatives, and no religion. Sometimes he said to himself with a glow of pride, 'I am a citizen of all history, of the millions of years of Hainish history, and my country is the whole galaxy!' At other times he felt miserably small, and he would leave his screens or his books and go look for company among his fellow students, especially the young women who were so friendly, so companionable.
At the age of twenty-four Havzhiva, or Zhiv as he was now called, had been at the Ekumenicat School on Ve for a year.
Ve, the next planet out from Hain, was colonised eons ago, the first step in the vast Hainish expansion of the Fore-Eras. It has gone through many phases as a satellite or partner of Hainish civilizations; at this period it is inhabited entirely by historians and Aliens.
In their current (that is, for at least the past hundred millennia) mood of not tampering, the Hainish have let Ve return to its own norms of coldness, dryness, and bleakness — a climate within human tolerance, but likely to truly delight only people from the Terran Altiplano or the uplands of Chiffewar. Zhiv was out hiking through this stem landscape with his companion, friend, and lover, Tiu.
They had met two years before, in Kathhad- At that point Zhiv had still been reveling in the availability of all women to himself and himself to all
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women, a freedom that had only gradually dawned on him, and about which Mezha had warned him gently. 'You will think there are no rules,' she said. 'There are always rules.' He had been conscious mainly of his own increasingly fearless and careless transgression of what had been the rules- Not all the women wanted to have sex, and not all the women wanted to have sex with men, as he had soon discovered, but that still left an infinite variety. He found that he was considered attractive. And being Hainish was a definite advantage with the Alien women.
The genetic alteration that made the Hainish able to control their fertility was not a simple bit of gene- splicing; involving a profound and radical reconstruction of human physiology, it had probably taken up to twenty- five generations to establish — so say the historians of Hain, who think they know in general terms the steps such a transformation must have followed. However the ancient Hainish did it, they did not do it for any of their colonists. They left the peoples of their colony worlds to work out their own solutions to the First Heterosexual Problem. These have been, of course, various and ingenious; but in all cases so far, to avoid conception you have to do something or have done something or take something or use something — unless you have sex with the Hainish.
Zhiv had been outraged when a girl from Beldene asked him if he was sure he wouldn't get her pregnant. 'How do you know?' she said. 'Maybe I should take a zapper just to be safe.' Insulted in the quick of his manhood, he disentangled himself, said, 'Maybe it is only safe not to be with me,' and
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stalked out. Nobody else questioned his integrity, fortunately, and he cruised happily on, until he met Tiu.
She was not an Alien. He had sought out women from offworld; sleeping with Aliens added exoticism to transgression, or, as he put it, was an enrichment of knowledge such as every historian should seek- But Tiu was Hainish. She had been born and brought up in Darranda, as had her ancestors before her. She was a child of the Historians as he was a child of the People. He realised very soon that this bond and division was far greater than any mere foreignness: that their unlikeness was true difference and their likeness was true kinship. She was the country he had left his own country to discover. She was what he sought to be. She was what he sought.
What she had — so it seemed to him — was perfect equilibrium. When he was with her he felt that for the first time in his life he was learning to walk.
To walk as she did: effortless, unself-conscious as an
animal, and yet conscious, careful, keeping in mind alt that might unbalance her and using it as tightrope walkers use their long poles. . . . This, he thought, this is a dweller in true freedom of mind, this is a woman free to be fully human, this perfect measure, this perfect grace.
He was utterly happy when he was with her. For a long time he asked nothing beyond that, to be with her. And for a long time she was wary of him, gentle but distant. He thought she had every right to keep her distance. A pueblo boy, a fellow who couldn't tell his uncle from his father — he knew what he was, here, in the eyes of the ill- natured and the insecure. Despite their vast knowledge of human
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ways of being, historians retained the vast human capacity for bigotry. Tiu had no such prejudices, but what did he have to offer her? She had and was everything. She was complete. Why should she look at him? If she would only let him look at her, be
with her, it was all he wanted.
She looked at him, liked him, found him appealing and a little frightening. She saw how he wanted her, how he needed her, how he had made her into the center of his life and did not even know it. That would not do. She tried to be cold, to turn him away. He obeyed. He did not plead. He stayed away.
But after fifteen days he came to her and said,
'Tiu, I cannot live without you,' and knowing that he was speaking the plain truth she said. 'Then live with me a while/' For she had missed the passion his presence filled the air with. Everybody else seemed so tame, so balanced.
Their lovemaking was an.immediate, immense, and continual delight. Tiu was amazed at herself, at her obsession with Zhiv, at her letting him pull her out of her orbit so far. She had never expected to adore anybody, let alone to be adored. She had led an orderly life, in which the controls were individual and internal, not social and external as they had been in Zhiv's life in Stse. She knew what she wanted to be and do. There was a direction in her, a true
north, that she would always follow. Their first year together was a series of continual shifts and changes in their relationship, a kind of exciting love dance, unpredictable and ecstatic. Very gradually, she began to resist the tension, the intensity, the ecstasy. It was lovely but it wasn't right, she thought. She
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wanted to go on. That constant direction began to pull her away from him again; and then he fought for his life against it.
That was what he was doing, after a long day's hike in the Desert of Asu Asi on Ve, in their miraculously warm Gethenian-made tent. A dry, icy wind moaned among cliffs of crimson stone above them, polished by the endless winds to a shine like lacquer and carved by a lost civilization with lines of some vast geometry.
They might have been brother and sister, as they sat in the glow of the Cnabe stove: their red-bronze coloring was the same, their thick, glossy, black hair, their fine, compact body type. The pueblan decorum and quietness of Zhiv's movements and voice met in her an articulate, quicker, more vivid response.
But she spoke now slowly, almost stiffly.
