Climate of Change (56 page)

Then something amazing happened. The time is May 1856, by the mouth of the Gxarha River.

Hero knew immediately that the matter was serious. He had seldom seen Rebel as grave and doubtful as now. She was no fainting flower. So he set aside his incidental business and gave her his full attention. “What is it, my sister?”

“You will not like this,” she said.

“Whatever it is you want, surely you can have it. I trust your judgment absolutely.”

“It is not what I want,” she said, frowning. At age thirty-one she remained a lovely woman, in significant part because she had never borne children or been tied to sedentary chores. Even her frowns were appealing.

“I want what you want: the greatest benefit for the family. We are doing well, considering these troubled times.” Then he had an idea. “Are you going to leave us? Have you found a man to marry?” For she had liked Harbinger, but he had married her older sister Haven. Hero knew Rebel hurt because of that, yet supported it, because Haven was able to bear children.

She smiled, a trifle wearily. “No such fortune. This concerns our brother Keeper.”

“He remains invaluable. He is the main reason we prosper: his expertise with cattle and crops. He wants to marry?”

“He should, but he won't. He still loves Crenelle.”

Who was Hero's wife. That had always been a subtle difficulty between them, but Crenelle had chosen Hero, and Keeper honored that, just as Hero would have honored it had she chosen Craft or Keeper. So Keeper remained single, devoting himself to the welfare of the family. “I have no concern about my brother and my wife.”

“Nor should you,” she agreed. “But this also concerns your daughter.”

“What does Tourette have to do with it?” he asked. That was the private name they called her, rather than her formal name Nongqawuse. It was part of the layered protection the family extended her, because of her malady. “She's a fine and lovely girl, even if I do let my pride show.”

“Agreed. But a troubled one.”

“There is nothing wrong with her that the right man could not fix. One who can accept her as she is.”

“Exactly.”

He gazed at her, confused. But already the matter was clarifying in an ugly manner. “Tourette. . . and Keeper,” he said heavily.

“Yes. We have seen it coming. Now it must be dealt with.”

He tried to dismiss it. “Because she flirts with her uncle? He's a responsible man.”

“Indeed. That is why he came to me. We are close.”

That was an understatement. Rebel loved her sister's husband, and Keeper loved his brother's wife. They had common emotional ground. Sometimes strangers had taken them for lovers rather than siblings,
though there had never been anything like that between them. It was that they shared everything with each other, knowing their mutual understanding. “He came to you,” Hero repeated.

“Try to understand, Hero. Tourette is vulnerable and impetuous and more than lovely. She turns male heads.”

“She's a child!”

“She's a woman.”

“She's only fifteen!”

“A young beauty. I could take any man I wanted; you know that.”

“I know that,” he agreed.

“So could she, and more readily, because she is younger and prettier. But she resembles me in a more subtle respect: she desires only one man, and he is not available.”

“Keeper,” he said. “But that crush will pass. She knows it is futile.”

“She knows intellectually. He is Family. But she does not entirely accept it emotionally. He is her ideal.”

“What are you saying?” he demanded, knowing well what it was, but wanting to make her say it—or back off. She had been correct when she said he would not like what she had to say.

“Understand, she is inexperienced, with strong emotion. She wants to love, to give herself to her ideal man, as any nascent woman does. And that man is Keeper.” Rebel shook her head. “And were he not her uncle, he would indeed be perfect for her. He knows her fully, and likes her for what she is. He doesn't have to pretend not to notice her sieges.” She gave Hero a serious look. “And that's the crux: they are right for each other, maybe regardless.”

Hero was appalled. “You are speaking of incest!”

“I suppose I am. It is not unknown, when other factors are conducive. Which would be better, objectively: a perfect match within the Family, or imperfect matches outside it?”

“How can you even think of such a thing?”

“I had a Vision. It was vague, no specifics, just a feeling that there was a looming choice between a small evil and a great one. Tolerating a quiet affair was the small one.”

“An affair!”

“What, really, would be wrong with it?”

“He's her uncle!”

“Apart from that?”

“There
is
no ‘apart from that.' It can't be. And I'm sure Keeper knows it.”

“He does. But he is under pressure.”

He stared at her. “He can't be considering it!”

She sighed. “I see I must be more graphic. Here is what he told me. Picture it in your mind.”

“Never!”

She put her hand on his arm. “Hero, please. You need to make the effort. Put yourself in his place. Feel his feelings.”

This was unlike her. Rebel was well versed in sex, but had never urged anything like this before. What was truly on her mind? “I will try,” he said gruffly.

Then she told him what their brother had told her.

They were in a secluded mountain pass, chill but bearable, camping for the night while the dogs made sure the cattle did not stray from the valley below. The grazing was good, and a few more days here would put some good weight on the cows. Tourette got along well with the dogs, and had been a real help moving the cattle here. Now they could rest.

Keeper tended to natural functions, then lay down, wrapped himself in his blanket, and settled for sleep, expecting Tourette to do the same nearby. Instead she joined him under his blanket. “What?” he asked, surprised.

“I had a dream,” she said.

“A bad dream? Tell me, and that should deplete its power.”

“A good dream. I seduced you.”

Had he misheard? Oh, she must be teasing him, as sometimes she did, flirtatiously. “Never, you naughty girl.”

She snuggled close, and he realized that she was naked. “Truly. Now I want to do it really.”

This was more than flirtation. “Tourette—”

“I love you.”

“And I love—but it's not the same. Don't think that—”

“I can keep a secret.”

“That's not the point! You can't—”

“No one need ever know, but just the two of us. Our secret. Don't you find me interesting?”

“No! Not in that way.”

She kissed him lingeringly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes I'm sure! I'm your uncle.”

Her hand snaked into his trousers, finding his erect member. “Are you sure?” she asked again.

She had given him the lie. Her passion and her lovely body were arousing him. “Tourette, this can't be. You have to know that.”

“I do know it,” she agreed. “But my body doesn't.”

“Go sleep by yourself. You are embarrassing me.”

“Keeper, please! I love you. I know we can't marry. I know it must always be secret. But I beg you to take me. It is all I ever wanted.”

“Tourette, I can't do it! It would violate our whole relationship.”

“Please, I beg you,” she said.

He steeled himself. “No.”

She froze against him. “I'm so ashamed.” She scrambled from under the blanket and hurled herself to her own blanket. “You must be revolted!”

He heard her quietly sobbing, and felt awful. Then he heard her yipping and snorting as the fit came on her. He couldn't let her go that way.

He got up, wearing the blanket like a cloak, and kneeled beside her. “Tourette, I'm not revolted. I know it's no demon in you, just a. . . a loose wheel in your body.”

Her fit eased, as it normally did. “But suppose we did it, and it happened then? Wouldn't you be disgusted?”

He didn't know how to answer, and was silent.

“See—you would be. You can't risk it. I should have realized. I'm so sorry. I am humiliated.”

“That's not it! It might even be intriguing.” But he regretted it the moment he said it. He had spoken without thinking.

“Oh! I'm a freak!”

“No! I'm sorry I said it, but it's true. You are so lovely that I'd feel privileged to be. . . in you. . . when it happened. To possess you when you are naked, as it were.” But he was horrified to hear himself talking like this, as though having sex with her were an option. “I shouldn't have said that either. I wish I could unsay all of it.”

She paused briefly. “You
do
desire me.”

“Yes, curse me! I do desire you. You are so much like your mother, whom I wish I could have married. But it is forbidden.”

“So there's a chance.”

“There's no chance!”

“Kiss me, and I will let you be.”

It seemed a fair offer. He lay beside her and put his face to hers. She clasped him, half bestrode him, and kissed him with savage passion.

He knew then that if she tried to take it further, he would not be able to resist.

But after an eternal contact, she released him, settling for what he had offered. “Thank you, Keeper. I will always love you.”

“And I you, I fear,” he said. “But—”

“I understand.” She closed her eyes. She was letting him be. He realized that she was not certain either, and needed some resolution of their problem.

But it was too late. He knew as he gathered the blanket about him again that he did love her as a woman, forbidden though she was. And that if she came to him again, he would succumb. He had always liked her, and now he loved her.

Hero shook his head. “That was too real.”

“It is love denied,” Rebel said. “But it will not be denied much longer unless firm action is taken. I repeat: My own Vision suggests that it would be better to let them do it. The alternative is worse.”

“No! Nothing could be worse!”

She did not argue. “Then I think Keeper must go elsewhere, and soon.”

“Our cousins could use his expertise. We can send him there.”

“She might follow him. Her passion makes her headstrong.”

“Then send him where nobody knows. Immediately.”

She rose and departed without further word.