Page 69 of Something Human

“I wish it could be you. I love you so much. Right now I can’t imagine finding anyone I’d care about half as much. And maybe I never will. But … you know … if I did, I’d want to be faithful to her. Or him—but honestly, probably her. I think there might really not be another man in the world I’d be willing to take publicly as a lover.”

“But you would do that for me.”

“That’s what I was talking about the other day.”

“I didn’t think you meant that seriously.”

“I did. And I didn’t, because I didn’t think—don’t think—you want to give up your home and your whole way of life and the respect of your people to be with me. And I’m not offering to make a sacrifice like that for you, so I can’t ask it of you.”

Unexpectedly, Rus felt a little anger kindling at that. “My home … my home is a place where I can never tell anyone who I really am or who I love, and my way of life is a lie, and the respect of my people is another lie, and I’m not asking you to make any sacrifice for me. I expected you to go back to Tios and live your life and marry and rule your people, and all I wanted was to see you from time to time, but you won’t even give me that.”

“Because it wouldn’t make either of us happy.”

“Ah, yes? And if we part forever? The only one who stands a chance of happiness in that case is you.”

“Rus, honestly … That isn’t true. And you’re not asking to be allowed to see me—that’s not what that pin means—you’re asking me to be your lover. Three or four days out of every year. Maybe.”

“I don’t know what you want from me! I can’t go to Tios with you. What would I do there? What would I be? I belong here. This is the only place where I belong—I can’t leave.”

“That’s what I said. You don’t want to give up your way of life. That’s what I goddamn said, you nitpicking blue fuck.”

Rus gave a surprised snort of laughter. He looked down at the kilt pin that he still held. He turned and drew back his hand and flung it as hard as he could down into the valley, where the sun had already set and it was dark.

“We should go back,” he said, looking up the hill rather than at Adares. “You should go back into the hall. We can say goodbye tomorrow.”

They walked back up the hill in silence.

Rus didn’t go back into the headman’s hall. He went to Kuth and Genet’s house. Their children were sleeping inside while their parents worked on the doorstep in the fading light. Kuth was crushing seeds in a mortar, and Genet was spinning. Rus sat down in the grass beside them. He thought he would just sit there and not talk. He didn’t want to talk.

“So the Phemians leave tomorrow,” said Kuth.

“Kuth … ” said Genet, a warning note in her voice.

Rus looked up at them, puzzled. “What?”

“She doesn’t want me to talk about it,” said Kuth, “but I think we should. I think you and the Phemian archon are … ”

“Friends,” Genet supplied.

“Yes,” said Kuth doggedly, “that, certainly. But I think there’s another word for it, too.”

There was a moment of silence like a hole in the world. This, he had not anticipated.

But it was surprisingly easy to know what to say next. “He was the Phemian who saved my life after the battle in the autumn. We have been lovers since then. Or—we became lovers then, and we are again now. I knew who he was at the time—he didn’t tell me, at first, but I guessed. I helped him get back into his city with reinforcements to lift the siege. When Gunthanaruth wanted a bull fight to decide whether we should leave or stay, I fought to lose. I let go on purpose. I don’t remember doing it, but I know that’s what I did. Adares thought that I’d died. I told Gunthanaruth to invite him here so that I could see him again.”

Genet had fumbled her spindle, and it bounced across the packed earth in front of the doorway. She stood and bent to pick it up with a swift gesture that was oddly like a man grasping a weapon. She turned to look at Rus.

“I thought you were holy,” she said.

“I’m not.”

“You betrayed your people for the sake of an unnatural lust for a foreigner. You profaned the bull-fight, and you carried on as if nothing had happened and let Suthus make you his deputy.”

Kuth made an impatient noise. “Genet … He chose loyalty to someone he loved. It’s exactly what you or I would have done.”

“It’s what? He profaned the bull-fight!”

“Everyone but Gunthanaruth wanted that bull to win, and even he decided afterward that it had been for the best. And what was Rus supposed to do when Suthus named him his deputy? It seems to me that what he did was his duty.”