Shame of Man by Piers Anthony
Baa looked canny. “Your wife is beautiful.”
“You suppose this is something I do not know?”
“In the dark of the moon, each month, send her to me.”
What? This lowly slave wanted to touch a long-ear woman? This was worse than presumption! “Begone before I have you flogged.”
“For the boy.”
Scil might hide the boy from Huu, but she couldn't hide him from her brother. Scil wanted to trade the boy for marriage, displacing Aan. Baa wanted to embrace Aan one or two nights a month without denying her her status. It was an appalling prospect, but it was a better alternative than divorce. Huu did want the boy.
“I will consider,” he said gruffly, turning away.
When he turned again, Baa was gone. He continued his business, checking the topknots, and made his selection. He marked it, and went to his tent.
There was a woman in it. Huu knew immediately who it would be. “Go away, Scil,” he said. “I will not pay your price.”
“Then have me this night for no price,” she said. “I know you need warming.”
“Warming becomes too complicated.”
She did not move. “I told you I warmed you four years ago for the dancing you taught me. I lied. It was because I love you.”
This made him pause. “Maybe then you will understand that I love Aan, and will not give her up.”
“But she can never give you a son.”
He wondered whether she knew about her brother's offer. “If I could have the boy without having you also, I might take him.”
She laughed. “Of course. But I am the price of him. If you would love my boy, you must let me love you.”
So she did not know. If he told her, she would hide the boy from her brother, too, and that deal would be void. But if he made that other deal, what would become of Scil? “What will you do if I make no deal?”
“You are actually interested?”
“Yes.” Though perhaps not in the way she thought.
“Then lie with me, and I will tell you.”
She wanted to lie with Huu, and her brother wanted to lie with Aan. Would she settle for Baa's price? “What if I were to lie with you only in the dark of the moon?”
“For my son? That is the kind of deal a man would make. I want more.”
So it was status, rather than love of him, that drove her, despite her claim. “I will not give you more.”
“You are as hard to bargain with as my brother,” she complained.
“What of your brother?” he asked, suddenly alert.
“He wants to be the first short-ear chief.”
Huu remembered. It was becoming cumbersome to administer the growing short-ear population directly, so a short-ear chief would be assigned. Candidates were now being considered, and the decision would be announced during the ceremony of the completion of the placement of the Hotu statue. “That decision is not in his hands. Three leading short ears will do it.”
“Yes. One of them hates Baa, so will vote for someone else. But Baa hopes to marry me to another, so he will support Baa. That will give him an even chance.”
“Your brother can tell you whom to marry?”
“He is the man of our family.”
“Oh, of course. But how can you offer to marry me, then, without his authority?”
“You are long ear. He is short ear. If you married me, my brother could not stop it. And my son would be better off, because you would not mistreat him.”
More of her rationale was coming into view. “The other man would mistreat him?” Huu had his own misgiving about that.
“He doesn't want another man's child. He would be happier if I came alone. But he will take me, because—” She reached up from where she lay to catch Huu's leg in the darkness. “You know why. I will show you again, if you have forgotten.”
“I can see why you would prefer to marry me,” Huu said. “If you have to pretend to love a man, it might as well be one who will treat your son well.”
“Yes.” Then he knew she was smiling. “But it would not be pretense, with you. I would warm you without price, were it not for my son.”
“Then give him to me, and be free to marry the other man without fear for your son.”
“Give him to you? When I could do so much better for myself? I think you want him enough to pay for him.”
“I will not sacrifice my wife for him!”
“That may be your choice,” she said indifferently.
“You seek to force me into something I do not want. Suppose I force you into something you do not want?”
“That is impossible, because with you I want it.”
“Something else,” he said grimly.
“Kill me,” she said evenly. “And know that your son will die where he is hidden. You will never find him.”
“Get out of my tent!”
She sighed. “I suppose the mood is spoiled. I will come to you another time.” She got up and brushed by him, so that he could tell she was naked. The touch did stir his reaction, making him desire her, as she intended. She had been a remarkably apt warmer. Then she was out and gone, silently.
He lay in the bed that she had warmed. Scil knew how badly he wanted that boy, and was playing him in like a fish, to gain her way. But her demand was simply too much.
She had shown her callousness. It matched that of her brother. And her brother had a better offer.
Except for one thing. Baa wanted Aan, one night a month. Aan was unlikely to agree to that. But Huu would ask her, when he returned home tomorrow.
Aan and Min went out to meet Huu gladly as he approached the house. He had been long away, and they had had to suffer their grief alone; now it was time to resume living. But Min had a caution. “Something amazing,” she said.
“Anything is better than what we have been through.”
“Maybe not.” But there was no more time for discussion, for they had reached Huu, who hugged them both.
“Min says you have something amazing to tell us,” Aan said after a moment.
Huu looked abashed. “I do. But it is awkward. There are—”
“Tell us, Daddy!”
He told them.
Aan stared at him, shocked. “You have a son? By a slave woman?” She had thought that nothing could push aside the shock of her grief for Kip, but she had never anticipated this.
“It seems I do,” he said, looking rueful. “That bed warmer, four years ago, Scil. It seems she got a baby by me, but never told me. Now she has offered him to me, but at too steep a price.”
“You must get that child! What price could be too steep?”
“She wants me to divorce you and marry her.”
Shock on shock! Aan had to sit down, lest she faint.
“I told her no,” Huu hastened to tell her. “I love you. I would never—”
“What about the boy? How can any son of yours grow to be a slave?”
“There is another way,” he said, but he did not look easy. “Her brother Baa approached me next day, and said he would fetch me the boy. But his price—”
“Oooo!” Min exclaimed, her eyes as round as her mouth.
Aan glanced at her, suddenly apprehensive.
“He wants you, by the dark of each moon,” Huu finished.
Now she looked at him, sharply. “You would allow this?”
“I would, before I would allow the other.”
He would let her be with another man, rather than divorce her. At another time she might have felt complimented. But either was intolerable.
“There is more,” Min said.
“We had better hear it,” Aan said, feeling somewhat as if she had stepped into the spirit world.
Huu glanced at her, then shrugged. “Well, only that I learned that Baa wants to be chief of the slave tribe. But that does not relate to this, except that it explains why Scil is so eager to marry me. She wants to escape being used as a prize for one of the judges’ vote.”
“More,
“And to keep her son from a man who would mistreat him.”
Aan stiffened. “She has a point.” It was a special irony that Aan could not have more children of her own, because she loved them dearly. The thought of one being abused horrified her.
“I'll have another brother!” Min exclaimed.
Now Huu looked at her. “How can that be so, when we will not do what either slave wants?”
“I don't know. But he'll be here soon.”
Aan exchanged a glance with Huu. Then he looked away. “Let me take Min somewhere,” he said.
So Aan could get herself settled. She nodded, appreciating the thought. Huu took Min's hand, and they went out to consider the evening sky.
Aan lay down, but she did not rest. Her emotions had been roughly stirred by Huu's news. She could understand why the slave brother and slave sister would seek to capitalize on their situations, but did not see how to get the boy without paying an appalling price. She did want the boy, because he was Huu's son, and because he might help fill the void left by Kip. She didn't care that the child had been sired on a slave girl; these things happened. Had they known about him before, they would have taken the baby immediately after weaning. It was a shock, learning about him now, but more of a favorable one than an unfavorable one.
Min believed that there was an acceptable way to get the child. What could it be? Aan focused on that, for it was a considerable distraction from her grief. How could they get that child without having to submit to the lusts of brother or sister?
Then Huu and Min were returning. “We thought of a way!” Min cried.
“A way?” she inquired guardedly.
“We can offer Baa something else,” Huu explained. “He wants power in the slave realm. We can arrange for him to have our people's support. We control one of the three judges who will decide what man will be the slave leader. Baa means to marry his sister to another, and that will give him a majority. He surely craves power more than the body of a dancer. He will agree.”
“Surely,” Aan agreed, her feelings mixed. “But is he a man of honor? Will he deliver the boy when he gains his position?”
“He is not a man of honor, but I am,” Huu said. “I will arrange the support after he delivers the boy.”
“Then let it be done,” Aan said with relief.
Days later, a slave with a bundle approached the house. “He's here! He's here!” Min exclaimed.
Aan was baffled. “It is only a slave, dear, not your father.”
“My brother! My brother!”
The boy! Aan faced the slave as the man stopped before them. “What have you brought?”
“I made a deal with your husband,” the man said. “You for this.” He opened the bundle to reveal the face of a small child. Aan saw immediately that the child was kin to Huu; there were bones of the face she recognized.
“That was not the deal,” she said with certainty.
“Your support for the child,” he said, as if clarifying his reference. But she knew she had backed him off; he had hoped to deceive her into paying an additional price. That was surely why he had brought the child directly to her, instead of to Huu.
“How do I know this is the one?” she asked, though she was sure it was.
“Take his hand.” The man set the child down, free of the covering.
Min stepped forward, reaching out her right hand to the boy. The boy reached out to take it with his left hand.
“Like Daddy!” Min cried, pleased.
Evidence enough. The child's mother would have known that he would have a difficult time in a normal family and a worse one with a stepfather who disliked him anyway. Here he would be allowed to use his hands as he pleased, and taught how to conceal his wrong-sidedness when that wasn't possible.
“What is he called?”
“She calls him Scev.”
Aan saw the significance. He had given a term for left-handed son. It was exactly appropriate. “Scev,” she repeated, and the boy looked at her.
“I have delivered him,” the man said. “Keep him safe.” He turned away.
The child saw that, and made as if to follow. But Min held him. “You are with us now,” she said, hugging him.
Scev had been about to cry. Now he turned into Min, accepting her embrace. Once again Min's magic was working.
Soon they got to know the boy, in their separate fashions. Aan offered him food, and he accepted it somewhat warily; he knew that she was not his mother. He surely thought that his real mother would return for him in due course. And Aan was satisfied with that, for now, because she was not sure how she felt about him. She was adopting him because he was Huu's son; he was no blood relation to her. He was the child of a woman who had wanted to seduce Huu and replace Aan as his wife. That was not an easy thing to accept. Yet the boy himself was innocent of any such scheme; he deserved no censure. He did not know that he was the living evidence of her husband's infidelity. So how was she to approach him, emotionally?
Min had no such problem. She hugged the boy, she played with him, she helped him eat. He had not eaten the food Aan gave him until Min encouraged him. She called him brother. And, indeed, Min was no more related by blood to Aan than Scev was. And there, perhaps, was the key: Aan did love Min. Min had been the joy of her life throughout, as much a daughter to her as any birthing of her own could have been. Min had shown the way, just by existing; of course Aan could accept a child she hadn't birthed.
They made a bed for him, but Scev preferred to sleep with Min. Min was willing; she embraced him, and he slept immediately. Aan did not oppose it; the girl was evincing a side of her personality Aan hadn't seen before, because she had always been the little sister, not the big sister. She was taking care of the child, and this definitely made it easier for Aan, with her private doubts and adjustments. She realized that it could have been difficult, had she had to deal with the boy alone. Instead it was easy, because of Min.
Aan took time to sew a new outfit for the boy to wear, because he was in slave attire; that simply would not do. They would have to see about his ears, too, having them pierced for pegs. But that could wait a few days. She laid the clothing out beside Min's bed where she would find it when she woke. Then Aan retired herself, spending some time in a turmoil of racing thoughts before she was able to sleep.
She realized one thing, belatedly: she had hardly thought of Kip since Scev had arrived. That did not mean she did not love and grieve for Kip, just that Scev was a considerable distraction. And he was, perhaps, a son.
Scil returned to her house to discover that Scev was gone. She knew immediately that her brother was responsible. He was trying to make his own deal, and he was trying to deprive her of her son.
She sought him out. She left the village and followed the deep valley to the Tohua, the large ceremonial center where he was working. The Tohua area was a rectangular, flattened earthen area surrounded by stone platforms of various levels. Some platforms served as temples, and others functioned as seating for the various levels of society: “valliol,” visitors, old men, women and children, and the priests each had their own sections. The entrance was a low cleft between two high platforms, and often one of the platforms held the long ceremonial drums. This was where the harvest ceremonies occurred, and memorials, and rites of passages for the members of high-ranking families, and formal tattooing. It had taken a lot of work to make the Tohua, and it had to be properly maintained. That was the detail Baa was on today.
Now she spied him. “You took Scev!” she cried. “Where is he?”
“You are better off without that boy. It leaves you free to marry.”
“Where is he?” she repeated, anger and fear sharpening her voice.
“I took him to the musician's house. We made a deal.”
“You had no right!”
“You are my sister. I can marry you to whom I choose. I have a lot to gain by this.”
“We shall see about that.” She stalked
She would have to get Scev back. Otherwise she would lose both her son and her freedom. Only if she made her bargain her way could she escape what Baa had in mind for her.
It continued next morning. Min took Scev to handle natural functions, and dressed him in the new clothing, and fed him breakfast. Aan stayed in the background, ready to step forward when needed.
“Maybe we should get him a toy,” Min suggested.
So they went out into the city to shop, and Scev clung tightly to Min's hand, staring around at the houses he had not seen before. They got him a rubber ball, and he was amazed and delighted with it. When they got home, he played with it endlessly, with Min and alone, fascinated by its bounciness. He was it seemed a cheerful child, ready to be entertained by things and not quick to cry. He had evidently been well cared for, and that said something about his mother. Aan understood that she was at best a well-proportioned dancer—that went with the profession—and somewhat scheming and heartless. But that could not have applied to her son, who had been neither abused nor neglected. She must have devoted a lot of caring time to him.
Yet she had given him up to further her brother's career. That was not a good signal. Aan would never have given up a child, for any reason short of death—as was the case.
Suddenly the scene before her faded, and she was lost again in grief for Kip. He had been just on the verge of manhood, trying so hard to measure up to the standard expected. And he had succeeded—at the expense of his life. Her tears flowed, blurring her vision, dripping from her chin. Oh, my son, my son!
“Mother.” It was Min.
Aan blinked. She shouldn't have let herself go in the presence of the children; it wasn't good form. “I'm sorry, dear. What is it?”
“She comes.”
Aan looked around, but as her vision cleared she saw no one. “Who comes?”
"Her,” Min said urgently, her eyes flicking toward Scev.
It registered. Scev's mother, Scil. She must have changed her mind. Was she coming to demand her child back?