Chapter 83: Reconciliations |
Transcribed from dictation, ADAM speaking--
Daklakht showed up again in the late morning. Ostensibly looking for
Masnia, although he already had a woman on each arm--Magga and Mastinta.
He had evidently enjoyed the Kha-rat, even though all his cherished plans
to bust me for playing myøsik had fallen through. I couldn't help wondering
who he might be today: Masnia's nice easy-going Da-dakh-ee or my own
dangerously aggressive and arrogant Adversary.
Of course, I had wondered about Daklakht's sudden personality change at
Masnia's command. Obviously she knew exactly how to push his buttons;
but still, that a man of such power and authority would allow his teenage
daughter to publicly run roughshod over him seemed odd, to say the least.
But it had worked out well, so I wasn't complaining: in fact, I had forgotten
all about my formidable Adversary during the rest of the Kha-rat. I'd been
planning to ask Masnia about it, but the several times when she and I had
bumped into each other we'd been either too busy playing music or
frantically having each other to discuss anything whatsoever.
But he came to us with no Alutna along to back him up and seemed to be
quite relaxed, unofficial, almost jovial. I was not quite ready to trust
this new persona, thinking it could just be an act to mollify Masnia.
Although I got the feeling that he had also himself been thoroughly
mollified this morning by both Magga and Mastinta: the bastard should
be relaxed.
I think I was trying to feel jealous about Magga, but that Nokhso concept
just didn't quite fit into this Nokhon morning. Besides, I'd had my chance
with her that evening--well, a quick yøramma in passing without any
emotional contact--but was that her fault or mine?
Mastinta greeted us, "Dadamet and Masnia, your myøsik last night was
wonderful! What an experience!"
I thanked her for the compliment then looked into Magga's eyes, "What did
you think of it, Magga?"
"It was interesting," she said, the classic say-nothing answer, then looked
down and said no more.
I had been trying to ignore Daklakht, snub him actually, but he said, "We
need to talk, Dadamet."
Masnia spoke up before I could answer, "So what did you think about our
myøsik, Daddy?"
"This is going to make me sound like a fool," he admitted, "but I enjoyed
everything about it: the sound, the rhythm, the words. I am very proud of
my children."
Him saying that astounded me so much that I forgot the clever insult I had
been preparing to throw back at him. Which gave him time to say, "Ladies,
will you amuse my daughter while Dadamet and I go somewhere to speak
in private?"
They said yes, but I said, "Go somewhere alone with you so that you can
attack me in private? I think not, Adversary!"
"Dadamet, You have my word that I shall not attack you," he said.
I can hear when normal people lie, but the Alutna-Jii was evidently spy-
trained to keep secrets, so all I could hear were the words he chose to
say. I glared at him so long without answering that he turned to Masnia
and said, "Daughter, I promise TO YOU that I shall not attack him. Tell
him so, please."
So Masnia spoke up for him, "Daddy never lies to me, just like you. Go
talk with him, Da-adam-ee." Her I believed.
We still had something to resolve, of course. I suspected that he still
wanted to arrest me, although he might have to wait until my 200 "allies"
were not watching. So I left my guitar with Masnia, to keep it safe, and
went up the hill with Daklakht, away from the crowd but not out of sight.
From the hill above, overlooking the still large gathering of Nohons, it
appeared that almost none of the guests had left yet and the sight of so
many squatches filling up that little alpine valley in the light of day
was quite impressive. For both of us.
"Dadamet, I no longer have any reason to continue your Ordeal of Adversity,
you have endured it and passed all tests."
"What, you're saying that I can become the Negotiator now?"
"No, while you were away there have been developments at Shamballah;
that project is about to be cancelled by The Ultimate Nine. And if there
shall be no Negotiator, then you are no longer a threat to the Nokhon way
of life. But you may carry on as an Orator of myøsik instead, which you're
very good at."
"Either I don't understand, or you don't. You haven't defeated me, I am
still an Orator and could still become some kind of Negotiator anyway. You
have tried to shame me here and in the Nokhso world, but it didn't work."
"You have misinterpreted the point of an Ordeal of Adversity, it is not
meant to defeat you but to see what you are made of, how you deal with
adversity. You did well, I am satisfied."
"YOU are satisfied? Well, I'm not! You went too far, Daklakht--sending
me off to KILL a man, but only after first making me RAPE Melly!"
"Who?"
"The Nokhso woman I love!"
"Oh, that thin little girl-child with the golden hair? But as I recall,
you had already begun to yøramma her when I arrived, I simply allowed
you to finish it before going on your mission."
"ALLOWED? You're calling that a favor? By turning me into a slobbering
berserker and commanding me to take a small, delicate Nokhso girl by force?
I almost KILLED her!"
"But did not, neither her nor that Nokhso man: whom you were to PUNISH,
not kill. I had seen to it that you would not go too far, so no harm
has been done."
"Oh really? Tell me, Daklakht, would you turn me into that slobbering
animal again and set me loose on MASNIA?"
"It seems I hardly NEED to...but no, no I would not."
"But a Nokhso girl doesn't matter? I don't care how much you hate the
Nokhsoli, I happen to love that one. And now she's afraid of me: that I
could ever become that way again."
"Then I apologize, although my actions of that night were not of my own
volition. I could never have accomplished that mission in the dreadful
confusion of a strange Nokso city without psychic backup feeding me the
instructions and commands which led me to you on that rooftop. I had
no more option to deviate from my mission that night than you had."
"What? You're telling me that someone else was controlling YOU too?"
"I serve a Master. Sometimes his instructions are more than specific,
overwhelming even, so that I become a vessel for his will. Sometimes my
duties require that I must do things I would normally choose not to--so
my Master guides me past the ethical dilemmas."
I thought about the evening before: Masnia accusing him of actually
BECOMING "the wicked Elder Dastardat", but chose not to interrupt
his explanation.
"But now I feel regret about that girl: you are right, she should not have
suffered involuntary yøramma (if it was such; she definitely seemed
willing). However, she was obviously involved in your life and hardly
some innocent bystander, one always risks some collateral damage in
any conflict."
"THAT's your apology? Man, you really ARE an asshole!"
"I'm the Alutna-Jii, goes with the job. Just imagine what conflicts you
would have encountered if you actually DID become The Negotiator! Be
glad that you can simply carry on as a wandering minstrel and singer of
happy songs without responsibilities or duties."
It took no Orator skills to hear the irony in his words. I was tempted
to argue about the importance of bringing Culture to the Nokhontli, then
decided not to get in the position of making mealy-mouthed excuses and
apologizing for what should be a very nasty, very personal rant.
"I need to know something: how did you learn of my promise about Melly?"
"Melly? Oh, the Nokhso girl? What promise?" Daklakht asked.
"The Orator's promise you forced me to break!"
He looked bewildered. "How could I know about any promise you made in
the Nokhso world? "
"No one told you? Magga, for example?"
"I don't know what promise you are talking about. And as for Magga, she
would never betray you."
"What do you mean? She IS betraying me even now!"
"What, for being with me? That is her assignment, not her preference.
Shall I give her back to you?"
"She's not mine to give back to," I said, sounding pathetic, so changed
my angle of attack: "Why did you say you were proud of your children?
You have categorically denied being my father."
"Yes, well... Look, I have contributed my little squirts of sperm into the mix
of so many other males, breeding so many children that I've lost count--
20-50?--I'm not even sure how many were actually born. Most of them I've
had nothing more to do with. Masnia is my only child ever bred one-to-one,
happily with my beloved friend Malasna, the only offspring I have ever
allowed myself to keep in my life and love with an intensity that
frightens me..."
"...but me you've decided to make your enemy instead?"
"Now you're being the asshole," he said with a smile. "Now that my duty
as Adversary is done, I am clearly trying to establish some kind of
reconciliation."
"What is there to reconcile? You've never been a father to me before.
Instead, you had my mother deliver me to the Nokhsoli, abandoned her and
allowed her to die."
"That is not true!" he protested vehemently. Then more calmly: "May I
tell you what happened before you judge me?"
"Please do," me calming down as well.
We squatted and talked for hours. Some of his story I already knew: how he
had loved my mother while she was pregnant and that they had even shared a
bakhl together for awhile; how he had been sent to Shamballah in the Himalayas
shortly before her baby was born and could not return for many years; how
he never saw Mayala again, since she had died while taking me to the
Nokhsos.
He had, however, been present when she had learned to sing the Nokhso
song that would later become my mantra: from an artefact of extremely
forbidden skesk that played myøsik, given by the old Nokhso trader
Dawalasat to those two young rascals Dagrolyt and Dabronat.
Daklakht had been courting Mayala at that time, but was often away upon
Alutna missions. Mayala and Malasna were friends with those brothers and
would secretly listen to forbidden myøsik with them. Mayala became
obsessed with the first song (the Sound of Music), so much that she learned
to imitate it, although she had no idea what the words meant. But then
disaster befell them: they were reported for violation of Atli.
However, the strict Alutna agent who was supposed to arrest them--Daklakht,
of course--chose to let his lover go with a warning and was therefore obliged
to release the others as well.
He had been furious with Malaya for compromising him like that and it
irritated him to hear her still singing that accursed Nokhso myøsik long
afterwards. She already knew that her unborn child would be living among
the humans one day, so she wanted to give him a head start by singing him
a Nokhso myøsik when he was born. Finally Daklakht had to leave and
never saw her again. So when I'd used that song as a mantra against him
he'd already been programmed for a heavy emotional reaction years before.
Hmmm, funny how that worked out.
Throughout his story he mentioned Dastardat, the previous Alutna-Jii of Aket
whom he now called his own Master. I recalled old Da-nama-hat's warnings
about that Elder, now known as Da-starda-hat: that he was evil, corrupt, my
worst enemy, etc. But Daklakht seemed to have a great affection for him
and described him as a great Dwayarat and his very best friend.
Finally I had to interrupt: "Actually, I've heard only bad things about him."
Daklakht scowled, seemed about to become angry--I had to wonder if I was
going to see another sudden personality shift. But he managed to control
himself, did the squatch equivalent of a shrug and said, "My Master is a
Nokh of Vision and therefore misunderstood and envied by lesser men. Noble
Da-starda-hat is, truly, the most admirable Elder in several generations--
and to my Great Fortune, my greatest friend. It was He alone who helped me
through the crisis I suffered over the loss of Malaya."
I could tell that I had to be careful with the subject of his "master" but
pushed it anyway: "But wasn't it Dastardat who ordered you to the Great
White Mountains just before I was born? And kept you there for two season-
cycles, until Mayala died taking me to the Nokhsos?"
"Ra, but we each had our duties to perform, neither he nor I had any
choice about that. He told me that he sympathized. When I did return to
Aket and was almost destroyed by the news of Mayala's death, he offered me
personal instruction in his techniques of psychic control which enabled me
to endure my grief."
Both Masnia and Old Da-nama-hat had suggested that Daklakht had been brain-
washed by this Master, so I had to wonder, but then I really couldn't know
one way or the other.
Anyway, we traded life stories, his by far the most fascinating;an epic tale
including many of the Nokhons I already knew. But I'd rather relay that
history at another time, after having gathered all the facts and various
versions.
I suppose we did achieve a reconciliation, Daklakht and I, although the
more critical confrontation would come later. We'll get to that in another
chapter.
Our conversation was interrupted by a sound in the distance: a faint nagging
buzz that seemed to be getting louder, coming closer, until I recognized it
to be an airplane motor, small, flying low and slow. I suddenly realized
that 200 squatches might be visible when it passed over the valley.
I also had a feeling that the plane was looking for me. I had aroused all
that media attention back in the Nokhso world, the concert, battling another
squatch and then vanishing overnight. They had to suspect that I was
somewhere around here, in the wilderness with other squatches--and we had
been pretty loud last night. There was big money in media coverage to be
made if they found me, so I'd better not expect them to respect my privacy.
But when the plane did pass overhead, a little single-winged Cessna, there
was not a Bigfoot to be seen. All 200 of them had known what to do, this
was everyday life for a squatch: hiding from the Nokhsoli.
When the plane was gone we could see the crowd forming once again, hairy
figures coming out of hiding in the nearby forest, which must have been
filled to capacity. There was some aimless milling around, the rhythm of
non-stop-fun had been broken, many were still looking up at the sky
apprehensively, but the soft buzz of conversation gradually resumed.
Many people seemed into just hanging out a little more, although for some
of the guests the party was apparently over, clumps of them seemed ready to
start their long trips home.
Daklakht and I were about to resume our conversation when we heard someone
shouting. We both recognized Masnia's voice shouting our names and then we
could see her frantically running up the hillside toward us. We ran down
to meet her halfway.
"The guitar!" she was shouting, "someone has taken the guitar!"
Masnia had set the guitar bag up on a rock, almost on display, near where
she was talking with her friends. When the airplane alarm sounded for
everyone to scramble into hiding, she quickly hid the guitar under a
nearby bush so that the colorful bag couldn't be seen from the airplane
and dashed into the woods with a flock of others. They all had to throw
themselves into a huge pile to fit so many big hairy bodies under the tiny
bit of leafy cover there was. Good thing she didn't have the guitar with
her, it would have been crushed. Although, also not so good, because when
she got back to the bush the guitar was gone.
Things had been generally confusing so she started calmly asking if anyone
had seen it. She hadn't been worried about anyone stealing it because the
entire concept of theft was unknown to her--or any squatch. Nokhons lived
in that perfect utopian society without crime or war or poverty, you know,
mainly since nobody has any possessions worth stealing.
Finally someone mentioned that three young guys had been seen taking it
with them as they ran into the woods to hide from the airplane. Been seen
since? Not yet.
My guitar had been stolen! It was mind-boggling to comprehend just how
fundamental a catastrophe that could be: not only for me personally, losing
my irreplaceable instrument, but also because now I could not fulfill my
Vision. And yet Masnia was even more upset and angry than me, because she
considered it to be her fault.
But she also knew what to do, she pointed to the far side of the valley and
said: "They went that way, Daddy!" Yes, she called a cop. And not just
any cop, but the Alutna-Jii Himself.
However, Daklakht was not immediately sympathetic to the situation, nor
quite ready to jump at Masnia's every whim. He crossed his arms to lecture
us both: "I believe this is Dadamet's problem to solve," he said to her and
to me: "This is what happens when you bring your oh-so-wonderful skesk among
people who are not allowed to have it. They will always become tempted to
possess it themselves."
I didn't bother to argue with him because I knew he was right. Instead I
ran down the hill and across the valley to find those three guys, skirting
around the crowd in the middle. I asked a few times along the way but no
one had any useful information and I found myself in the woods without a
clue which way to go.
Normally I could track pretty well, but there had been too many squatches
moving around to find any kind of spoor to isolate. There was also still
too much shyøma in the air to find any three guys by scent. All I could
do was guess and run through the woods and hope I got lucky.
I came to a high clearing where I could get an overview of the mountainside
country ahead of me and I stopped there, looking for any sign of movement,
listening. I waited a while and finally had to give up, began heading back
to the crowd to ask more questions, maybe someone knew who those guys were.
I arrived feeling absolutely defeated but then came upon the tree guys in
the crowd. Actually, it was impossible not to find them: they were trying
to play the guitar and all I had to do was go after the sound.
They were showing off, being cool new up-and-coming musicians. One of them
had taken the guitar out of the bag and was trying to play it when I came
upon the scene, posing the way he had seen me do it. But he had not yet
figured out how to strum, so he was slapping the strings and getting
nothing but noise.
"Stop hitting my guitar!" I shouted, "you'll break it!"
They hopped all three, caught in the act, it was almost comical. The crowd
parted to let me through, probably hoping for some entertainment. I'd been
almost hysterical for the last half hour and probably looked like I was
ready to fight. The tree guys looked scared.
But I was so relieved that I couldn't maintain my anger and there was no
resistance when I plucked the guitar from the young man's hands. I calmed
down once I had it back and could see that they were not bad kids, just
three stupid young Nokhons with dreams of being as cool as me. Besides,
they had come back with the guitar.
I was intending to shout angry words at them, but couldn't think of anything
to say that wouldn't make me sound just as stupid as them. They hadn't
really stolen the guitar, only scared me and made me realize how attached I
was to this Nokhso possession. So I turned to leave.
"Wait! How can you make the myøsik with that hollow log?" the guy who
had tried to play it asked me. "It doesn't work for me."
I turned and shouted, "So why did you even take it if you don't know how to
play it?"
"I just wanted to try myøsik too and it seemed so easy when you did it."
Mollified by the compliment I responded more politely, "Myøsik is magic,
one must learn how to do it first. Like becoming Sha-haka, it takes years
of practice for it to be easy."
"I would practice as long as it takes," he said, "if I had a hollow log."
All the gas went out of my anger when he said that. This was exactly what I
had been shooting for all along with my concerts among the Nokhontli-- to
engender some kind of change in their perceptions, to promote an interest in
music and culture. Well, here it was.
And here was the dilemma I hadn't seen coming: I had the only instrument.
I reminded myself that I was a musician, not a guitar salesman and said,
"Sorry, but I need this hollow log myself."
One other of the three was more aggressive, "Oh, come on, Dadamet, you live
with the Nokhsos, you can always get more skesk like that!"
That seemed pretty cheeky to me, practically suggesting that I give them my
guitar. But I let it slide, figuring they had no concept of how one
obtained anything of value in the Nokhso world. And since I wasn't about to
explain the Capitalist Economic System to these guys, I just changed the
subject by stroking four power chords on my 12-string.
Everyone was startled into silence by the loud, long, clear clang of the
strings. "I'll say it again, this is a magical device!" There were murmurs
of agreement from the crowd.
"I cannot get another one of these-- this is the only one," I said, holding
the guitar up for all to see, "this hollow log was the very last creation of
an old Nokhso wizard who no longer lives. It is unique, made especially for
my hands. As you can see, no Nokhso could play this instrument because their
hands are too small."
The crowd was murmuring in agreement again and growing, people coming closer
to see what was happening. I seemed to have an audience and felt like giving
those three guys a lesson in why they shouldn't steal a guy's guitar.
I started playing "I Like To Run" and the crowd got excited, clapping hands
like I'd taught them to the evening before. As I sang the Nokhon words the
crowd began to act out the running, the climbing, the flying, stomping and
hopping like crazy people. That number is definitely my Greatest Hit on the
Nokhon Tops of the Pops. But just when they were most excited I stopped
playing mid-beat. Everyone lurched to a stop and scowled at me for screwing
up their fun.
"I am the only one among you who can make this magic. Therefore if this
hollow log is taken from me--then no one can. The myøsik will be gone
forever."
Then I finished the song and they were all happy again. I hoped they got
the point.
The party seemed to be breaking up, people were saying their farewells all
around me. Many called to me and waved, thanking me for myøsik the
evening before. Many were also glad to see that I had my guitar back, word
had gotten around that it had been missing. I went to find my friends before
any of them started to leave.
Masnia was very happy to see me with guitar in hand, running to give me a hug.
"It wasn't really stolen," I told her, "those guys were waiting for me just
over there in the crowd."
"Yeah, right, after Daddy caught them and sent them back. They were actually
headed south instead of West, to lose you."
"What?" Astounded, I had to talk to Daklakht. I found him talking with
Dagrolyt and Dambaraggan
"Is that true, you arrested those three guys?"
"Not arrested, I merely tracked them down and told them that if they didn't
bring the hollow log back they would be exiled."
"Thank you, I need that guitar..."
"Spare me, I don't wish to hear about your lust for a piece of skesk."
"So those guys are not to be punished for their crime?"
"Which crime? And who should be punished: them, for taking your possession?
Or you, for tempting them with desirable skesk?"
Out of the milling crowd the rehabilitated renegade Dazlask came up to me,
smiling and friendly, bobbing his head happily.
"Kha, Dadamet, good to see you again!"
"Kha, Dazlask, you finally got un-exiled, I see."
"Ra, I've pledged to change my ways and the mlønoli was good enough to
accept me back among them." He certainly seemed to be a changed man, now
a proper citizen instead of an outlaw. "All thanks to you, in fact."
"Me? What did I do?"
"Remember the last time we met? I was living like..like a crazy Nokhso;
campfire, skesk-weapons, I had just killed a deer. And I offered you
a piece..."
"Ra, I remember."
"When I saw you eating that meat, chewing those big gobs of muscle, blood
smeared all over your face, khask! I was disgusted. I was ashamed for
you, then of myself, suddenly realizing that I must look just as repulsive
to anyone who could see me. I resolved to stop all the antisocial shit I
was into and do whatever it took to be accepted by society again."
"Oh...well, uh...glad to have helped."
"By the way, I really like that myøsik you make, Dadamet!"
"Good. Oh and thanks for the meat Dazlask, I was pretty hungry at the time."
By the way, later on I discovered that Dazlask was apparently one of my
"four fathers".
I found most of my friends gathered in front of Dagrolyt's bakhl, some
saying farewell, others preparing to travel on together. Old Dannat and
his women were about to leave, so I hugged them all. Misma and Mrøla
would be staying (this was their bakhl, after all), so I hugged them too
because I would be leaving. Along with Dagrolyt, Dambaraggan, Daklakht and
Magga, who were all bound for Aket.
I noticed that Dabronat and Malasna were saying goodbye to Masnia, who was
not going home with them. I was not surprised; Masnia is one of the four
women in my Vision, I knew we would be making myøsik together now.
"Where do we go now?" Masnia asked me.
"To Aket," I said, "for our ultimate concert. I saw that in my Vision."
"But no one can enter Aket without an invitation," Dabronat reminded us.
"Daddy," she called, "do you have enough authority to invite us to Aket?"
"I am the Alutna-Jii, only the Three Elders have more authority than me.
But why would I invite troublemakers like you players of myøsik?" He
did say that with a smile.
"Pleeeease." Batting eyelashes, even squatch chicks do it.
"Oh all right. I invite you to accompany me to Aket. But you must behave,
there are rules."
One of the rules prohibited preadolescents from entering Aket, so although
Masnia wheedled and wanted her wanted her four young friends to come and
help give a concert too, they had to go back home with their parents and
practice some more. I sympathized but was relieved, they still sounded
pretty bad.
Six of us were going to Aket: myself, Dagrolyt, Dambaraggan, Daklakht, Magga
and Masnia. We could not travel in a group that large, especially with
airplanes scouting the hills for Bigfoot photos, so we arranged to travel
in pairs.
I was going to escort Masnia, but she wanted to travel with her father,
something they'd never done together before and that seemed fair and right.
I decided to go with Dambaraggan, thinking the fat old guy might need help
along the way, but he and Dagrolyt already had plans. So I was surprised
to find myself teamed with Magga, who was suddenly just there beside me
when it was time to go. Funny how that worked out.
We left at intervals to spread out the traffic, Magga and I had each said
farewells to the others, but not yet a word to one another. Finally it was
our turn to leave and we set out on our way to Aket.
Magga and I walked without talking for a while, neither of us ready to start
what might be a heavy conversation. She was walking along in her still-hot
cloud of shyøma and I was being dragged along by the nostrils, my
jutting erection bobbing with every step. Finally I tried to break the
silence, said something intelligent like, "Magga, I..."
But she cut me off, "I don't want to talk." I got miffed and wondered why she
had chosen to walk with me at all, unless it was just to torture me with the
classic female silent treatment. I was about to protest when she took my hand,
stopped me and said, "But I do want to yøramma."
I'd had enough of her heartless bitch act and decided to make a stand,
refusing to be a slave to her pussy-power. "Sure, after we've talked things
over," I said, letting her know who was boss.
"Forget it," she said and walked on ahead of me without looking back.
Obviously to ignore me, but walking with a provocative sway of her hips that
I knew so well. Magga knew that I was crazy about her bottom, I'd certainly
told her so emphatically enough and she was working it. Few squatch girls
are built the way I prefer but Magga is and she has an ass comparable only
to Lissandra's. (Hmmm, am I allowed to say that? Oh well, Liss, hope you
don't mind when you hear this.)
Back to Magga's back. I knew what she was doing and I resisted, honest I
did. But finally had to shout, "Oh crap, all right!" She stopped walking
without turning around, just bent over standing to offer me easy access,
right there in the middle of the trail.
I almost quibbled, she was too arrogant: keeping her back to me, no speaking,
no eye contact, making it as unromantic as possible. I hesitated, about to
stand on some abstract principle, then thought: Dadamet, are you crazy? Just
TAKE her! So I did.
And I was glad I did: everybody knows that sex is the ultimate icebreaker.
We started out rutting like animals, standing, then she dropped to hands
and knees for some real grinding. Ended up face to face, passionately
kissing--yes, she'd finally learned it--and making about the sweetest love
any couple ever could. We culminated with a mutual thrill that left us
both whimpering. Whew!
Somewhere in the middle of all that we even started talking to each other.
"I know I have violated your Nokhso concept of Love, Dadamet. Sorry about
that, but I am Nokhon. I enjoy to yøramma with you--like this--but you
want more than this." She was still taking the dominant approach.
"I'm not sure what you think I want from you, Magga, you may have
misunderstood my feelings." I was being cool. While my body was thoroughly
demonstrating those wants and feelings.
"No, I understand perfectly: you want me to prefer you above all other males,
you want to own me. Nokhsos yearn for possessions, Nokhons do not."
"Is that what Daklakht tells you?"
"He is quite wise."
"Maybe so, but it was Nokhons who yearned for my possession today when they
stole my guitar, just like any Nokhso thief. Everybody wants something. In
fact, Daklakht obviously wants you too. And it seems that you want something
from him or you would not be his sex-servant."
"The Alutna-Jii is a powerful man with great authority; I'm honored to serve
him however I can. But I still have feelings for you, Dadamet."
"Ra, I can tell," I grunted, since we were busy with the sweet-lovemaking
part just then.
"I told you when we met that I might never choose just one man to live with,"
she explained, repeating her favorite Independent Woman's speech, "I will be
Sha-haka-ma, not some man's woman."
"Fine with me," I said, "as long as we can still be lovers sometimes."
"Sometimes? Not always?" Now she sounded disappointed, or unsure.
"Always isn't necessary," I said, not actually trying to be nonchalant, just
saying the Orator's truth. But I could hear that she felt on the defensive
now--which I thought was cool.
"Do you like that very young girl more than me now?" Ah, insecure? Good.
"Not more, no, although Masnia is special to me. She's my sister."
"Oh?" she said, as if relieved. Like it's only natural to love a sister, who
is not really competition at all. Of course, being a squatch she didn't
bat an eyelash about incest.
"So you have little Masnia for the rest of the time. Maybe she and I can
be friends...wait, I don't understand, how can she be your sister? Your
mother died when you were a child and she is so young."
"Daklakht is her father and he was one of my four fathers."
"That does not make her your sister," she insisted, "you have different
mothers. And Daklakht has been part-father to so many local Nokhons that
you would have handfuls of brothers and sisters."
"She FEELS like my sister," I explained, "a fellow artist with words. There
is some kind of magic between us."
"Oh ra, the myøsik..." she went a bit dreamy on me, then focused,
"Dadamet, that myøsik you play, it is..."
"Interesting, you said, as in ho-hum?"
"I didn't know what else to say, I had no words. The sound, the movement,
the way the words were combined and called out in time with the pulse...they
almost made me want to..to..."
"You were on shyøma," I reminded her.
"..to choose you," then she had to stop talking and let the orgasm take her.
After that she couldn't STOP talking. Don't get me wrong, it was nice to
have her speaking to me again, but it was also kind of comical. Magga was
gushy-in-love-babbling. I recognized it for what it was: hero worship for
her new favorite pop singer/musician. Everything about that was new to her,
so she was acting like a teen-aged fan.
The myøsik had really hit her. In fact, she had us stopping several times
on our way to Aket for me to do special private performances of my songs for
her. She listened so intently, a goofy expression on her face, the guitar
riffs hypnotizing her--and then she would rape me. Yeah, it was fun, but it
took us an extra day to reach Aket because she had to hear all thirteen
songs, as well as "I Like To Run" three extra times. She liked the beat.
At least by the time we got to Aket her shyøma was wearing down enough
to let us get control over our lust again. Although since we were going where
sex was prohibited, it was only logical that we should yøramma one last time
before entering.
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