Shame of Man by Piers Anthony
He was sorely tempted. It would be so easy. But still he could not. “No,” he whispered with regret.
She didn't question his decision, but neither did she withdraw. She went to sleep with his hard penis against her. And, finally, he slept too.
The rain continued the next day, sometimes light, sometimes heavy. When it wasn't torrential, they could tell by the sound of distant thunder and the sight of lightning flashes that it was raining just as hard elsewhere. The water folk couldn't hunt or forage during such a storm, because they were all wary of the thunder. In fact, none of them would go into the water while there was thunder. So they had to remain in the shelter, just clear of the water.
“Why?” Hue asked, perplexed. His tribesmen had hunted in the rain; it actually helped them for some prey, because it could confuse the animals.
“Water kill,” Ann explained.
He could make no sense of that. As far as he could tell, it was an untested belief. Maybe something their shaman said, if they had one. But all of them were adamant; none would touch the water.
When there was a lull, they dived out in a long line, and swam for the beach, where they went into the brush to defecate. Hue did the same. Then they tried to make a fire so as to cook some of the hippo meat, but the moment it got fairly started, the rain returned, threatening to douse it. Ember was disgusted, evidently believing that she could make a fire that would survive the rain. But she was only a girl-child, without authority in such matters.
Hue had encountered this before. He broke a leafy branch from a tree and brought it to hold over the fire, so that the rain struck the leaves and ran down to the side, sparing the flame. It was still possible to cook. Ember clapped her little hands, pleased.
But the others fled to the water and to the shelters, so as to reach them before the thunder struck. Even Ember had to go, summoned peremptorily by her mother. She looked longingly back at the flame as she entered the water. Hue, disgusted, remained protecting the fire. Only Ann stayed with him, though she seemed reluctant. “Storm no,” she said, looking fearfully into the sky.
He hadn't meant to get her caught out in it, knowing her concern. He lowered the branch. “Go shelter,” he said.
But it was too late. Bright light flashed, reflecting from the water, and soon thunder came. She would not touch the water now.
So he did the next best thing. He broke off more branches, chopping with his axe when he had to, and quickly formed a kind of shelter by the fire. It was far from perfect, but it did deflect the brunt of the rain, so that the fire continued to burn. Then he carved off some chunks of hippo and impaled them on sticks so that the two of them could roast them. Anne joined him, somewhat comforted by the shelter and the fire.
But the storm got worse than before, and soon managed to extinguish the fire and soak both of them. Winds swirled, making leaves dance, and blew apart the shelter. They had to flee to the protection of the larger trees of the forest. They ate some of the meat, then huddled together in the sluicing water, gazing at the nearby surface of the lake.
Lightning stabbed down, striking the water. There was a sizzling sound. The thunder came at the same time, deafeningly. Ann screamed; he couldn't hear her, but felt her shoulders moving with it. He held her as closely as he could, but there was no way he could entirely stop her fright. The fact was, he was scared himself, though of course he could not admit it.
Then he saw something strange. Things were floating on the water. As he peered, trying to figure out what they were, Ann explained: “Fish dead. Thunder.”
The thunder had killed the fish! He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't just seen it. That was why the water folk stayed out of the water during a storm! They knew that they could be killed too. Somehow the thunder did in the water what it did not do on land, becoming not only deafening but deadly.
So they could not return to the shelter until the storm passed—and it showed no sign of doing that. On occasion a storm lasted for days, and this seemed to be one of those. So Hue left Ann huddling against a large tree, gathered more branches and rocks, made a better shelter, and plaited fine branches so as to overlap the leaves and make it as tight as possible. Large rocks weighted down the ends of the branches, and vines tied them together. Then he brought Ann to it and drew closed the small entrance.
Now they were insulated from the rain, except for some inevitable drips, and perhaps more important, from the wild appearance of the outside. He held Ann, sharing body warmth, and gradually she relaxed. He had restored some of what they had lost by being cut off from the water shelter.
But they were caught alone, isolated from the tribe, and he knew that Ann felt nervous about it. She was a creature of the tribe, and though she had been somewhat outcast within it because of her chin, she needed it. He had known first that he would have to mate with her to join the tribe; now he knew that he had to join the tribe to mate with her, because she could not exist apart from it. Lee was feisty and independent, ready to leave the tribe if she had to to get what she wanted, but Ann was a creature of her people. If he were ever to leave the tribe, he might not be able to take her with him. That could have been part of what made him hesitate, before. Did he want to be locked into the water folk?
What else did he have? His place in his own tribe had soured; he did not care to return there. Bub had offered to have him mate with Sis if he joined their tribe, but that didn't completely appeal either. So the water folk seemed best. All he had to do was commit to Ann—and he was about ready to do that. He was coming to like her very well.
But there was one more thing: how did she feel about him? She had offered to train him for the women's work, and had stayed with him when he went on to man's work, but that might mean just a continuing responsibility until he went to some other woman. She had offered him sex, but that might be from appreciation for his support, or just general courtesy. He needed to know how well she liked him for himself, and whether she wished to commit to him permanently.
He tried to ask her. “Ann Hue like?”
She glanced at him. “Sex?”
They were sitting beside each other. The reference made his penis harden, and she could see that. “No.”
“Yes,” she decided. “Owe.” She shifted position, seeking a way to lie down in the cramped shelter.
“No!” But of course that wasn't clear. “Ann owe no.”
She gave him a straight look. “Ann want.”
But was she saying it to free him of obligation, so that she could give him this without committing him? He was not looking for appreciation, he was looking for love. “Hue want.” She smiled acquiescently. “Hue want Ann want.” She nodded. Finally he broached the dread notion: “Love.” This was a seldom used, seldom understood concept. It signified the union of those who did it for reasons other than practical, sometimes at great cost.
Her eyes grew large. “Love,” she repeated. “Hue Ann?”
“Ann Hue,” he clarified. He wanted to know if Ann could love Hue.
She looked at him again. “Hue Ann love?” She touched her chin.
He turned his upper body, caught her elbows, and approached her face. She could turn away if she wished to. She did not. He kissed her projecting chin.
Her mouth worked, but she did not speak. Water appeared in her eyes.
He lifted his face and brought it close again. This time she moved too, bringing her mouth to meet his. They kissed. In that moment he knew that he could indeed love her, and that she could love him.
When he drew away, she remained unmoving. Her eyes lost their focus; she seemed to be gazing out beyond the shelter, into the sky. “Love day,” she said. “Storm no.”
She thought that love could not exist in a circumstance like this. She was afraid it wasn't real. She was afraid to believe.
But it might be days before the sun shone again. He did not want to wait that long. He wanted her to believe now. How could he persuade her?
He thought about it. Then he tried som
She glanced at him, then closed her eyes. He did the same. “Think rain no. Think sound water splash. Think day yes.” He had always been good at imagining sounds; could he enable her to do it too?
“Rain yes,” she said, perplexed.
“Rain yes. THINK rain no. Think sun yes.”
“Sun yes,” she echoed uncertainly.
Carefully he took her through it: instead of being stuck in a leaking shelter in a storm, they were in bright sunshine. They were not alone on the beach, but together with the other members of the tribe. They had an audience for what they were about to do.
As he spoke the words, over and over, and heard her echoes, he did begin to see it. They were still on the beach, but in the brightest day, surrounded by a ring of all the water folk, waiting expectantly. Then he took Ann's hand. “Hue mate Ann,” he said. “Join tribe.”
“Ann mate Hue,” she said, her voice charged with emotion. “Love.”
“Love,” he agreed. Then he kissed her. Then they did sex before everyone, the whole tribe being witness. And lay there hugging each other, just sharing the feeling. While the sunshine beat down loudly and steadily all around, and dripped on them.
Hue wasn't sure how many times the sun shone on their unions, but it was a number. At one point they laughed together, realizing that the sun was shining just as brightly in the middle of the night. But at last they woke to real day, after a night, and the rain was gone. Hue opened the door.
And saw the water of the lake almost up to their shelter. What had happened?
They stared out across the lake. There were the shelters, but strangely small. They had been flooded out!
Now they saw the water folk swimming toward the shore. They had heard the sudden silence of the end of the storm, and come out immediately. But it must have been terrible in the shelters. Worse than on the beach.
They got the story in scattered bits: The rain had continued unremittingly, and the water had risen. At first the folk had simply drawn their feet back, having experienced such rises before; the shelters were made so that some rise could be accommodated. But this rise was worse than any they had ever encountered. The water crept across their sleeping places. At first they had to share the highest ones, but then these too flooded. They dared not let the water touch them long, for fear of the thunder-kill. So they took sticks from the domes and made higher platforms. These were uncomfortable, but they had no choice. Still the water rose. They had to keep building, until the domes began to collapse because of the weakening of their structure. By dawn their houses had become a cluster of islands, each crowded with shivering people.
At last the storm passed. As soon as they thought it was safe, they plunged into the water and swam for shore. Hue recognized Joe and Bil and Itt, Lee and Ember, and many others. They had lost their shelters, but at least there had been no deaths. Now most of them just wanted to find safe places to rest and sleep, for they had managed little of either during the night.
Hue exchanged a glance with Ann. They had thought they had been badly off, but they had survived the night in more comfort and a good deal more pleasure than the others had.
But something needed to be said. Hue approached Joe. “Hue Ann mate,” he said.
Joe, distracted by other concerns, only glanced at Ann, who nodded. “Good,” he said, and moved on.
So much for their fancied public ceremony. They had picked the wrong time.
Things were in sad disarray. Many people were badly fatigued from discomfort and fright, and stood somewhat dazedly, not knowing what to do. Some had been injured. One woman was about to birth her baby. And the storm was coming back.
Bil approached. “Joe enemy look,” he said. That made sense, as the water folk were highly vulnerable now, being confined to the shore. They would have to hide if there were any enemy tribes raiding. “Bil island lead.” So he knew of a new island the tribe could use for protection and residence; once he got the water folk there, they could afford to rest. “Hue food move.”
Just like that, Hue was working directly for the tribe, with a responsible task. That hippo meat should not be wasted; they would need it to eat while they built new domes. “Where?”
“Island. Ann know.” Bil looked at Ann. “Peninsula.” He went on, seeing to other business.
Ann nodded. “Peninsula low neck,” she said. “Water high, island.”
Oh. Of course the water folk knew all the bypaths of the shoreline. They would simply float the carcass to the island. It would be a slow job for one man, but it was important.
But as the weary water folk followed Bil along the path around the expanded lake, the storm darkened and the rain resumed. Thunder crashed nearby. Ann cringed, and so did a number of the others. “Go go go!” Bil cried, not letting them dive for cover. He knew that the thunder wouldn't hurt them on land, but that enemies could. Their first priority was to get to the new island.
Bil was the actual leader of the tribe, Hue realized. Joe was the nominal one, but he wasn't as smart as Bil, so the key decisions were made by Bil. It seemed to work well enough, because Bil always made a show of consulting Joe and deferring to his judgment.
But now Hue had his own chore to handle. They couldn't enter the water while the thunder was threatening, but the hippo carcass was too massive to carry on land. What were they to do?
Hue pondered, and decided that a rope would do it. He foraged for vines, tied them together to make a long rope, tied it to the carcass, and shoved it into the water. Then he walked along the shore, hauling on the vine. It wasn't easy, because the carcass tended to snag on things, and there was no path here, but he did make slow progress. The thing also tended to swing back in toward land, until Ann got a long stick and kept shoving it out while Hue pulled. That helped a lot.
Ann told him the way, though she ran for the cover of a tree every time the thunder pealed. Hue did not comment; she was doing well to restrain her fear enough to guide him. Of course he might be able to find the island by himself, just by following the shoreline far enough, but this way he was able to skip inlets that she knew were wrong. There were streams flowing into the lake, and they had to gamble by forging across these, hoping the thunder would not strike when they were in the water. Ann was terrified, but did it when she had to. He grabbed her, held her, and kissed her, in this way shoring up her courage.
It was hard to tell in this unfamiliar terrain, but it seemed to Hue that the water was still rising. Certainly it wasn't sinking, because he saw no water marks on the tree trunks above the level of the lake. But there were a number of trees now growing out of the swirling brown water.
Late in the day they reached the island. It was hard to believe that it had ever been anything else, because it was separated from the land by a fair amount. But its central portion rose well above the lake, so it was in no danger of being flooded out of existence.
The rain eased off, and the thunder retreated, so they were able to swim across to the island, dragging the carcass behind. Ann was a real help here, because though she lacked Hue's strength, she was a much better swimmer. They heaved it onto the shore, and looked around.
The island was wooded, though there were no large trees. There was a crude dome shelter at the top of the hill, under which a number of women and children were sleeping. Men were building other domes around it, hauling bundles of sticks in from the mainland, floating them across the intervening lake. Women were plaiting roof material from prepared brush. A small sheltered fire was going, and clams were being roasted. The woman had birthed her baby and was nursing it, while her prior child watched. The baby's head was huge, but that seemed to be normal for these folk. Overall, the situation was looking good.
Soon men came to work on the hippo carcass. They were smiling; there would be a good meal tonight.
Bil came down to them. “Hue Ann shelter,” he said, pointing to a s
“Work much,” Hue said, looking around. “Hue Ann help.” He was tired from his labor of the day, but much remained to be done.
“Shelter,” Bil repeated firmly, seeming amused.
Ann caught Hue's hand and drew him toward the shelter. Then he understood: their mating. It was time to clarify it for the tribe. Then there would be no question.
They went to the shelter. They sat under it, and Ann brushed back her long dark hair and smiled at him, and he wondered that he could ever have thought her to be odd in appearance. Now her bare skin and full breasts seemed natural, and her chin gave her face distinction. After all, her face was small, and needed that extra brace of bone to keep it firm. Her broad hips were so she could birth a bigheaded baby. Everything made sense, and he was acquiring a taste for it.
He kissed her, and then lay with her, and it was wonderful to be close to her. The initial urgency of sex had been abated during the prior day and night, so there was no hurry, and he enjoyed it perhaps more. At length it was finished, and they separated and sat up.
The rest of the tribe was seated in a circle, watching, smiling. Lee was there, and she did not look jealous, while beside her Ember looked amused. This was their entertainment for a day that had not had much else to recommend it. Then, having seen that the couple had seen them seeing, they got up and returned to their various endeavors. And Hue and Ann returned to theirs: hauling bundles of sticks up to the shelters that were under construction. There needed to be shelter for all by nightfall, for the rain was coming back once more.
The fire increased, and the smell of meat spread. They went for their meal, and Hue realized that it was their first of the day. They had been so busy that they had never paused to eat—and there hadn't been much food available anyway. He saw Ember carrying wood; she was as usual delighted to be able to help tend the fire.