This space was even larger, the door even taller than the one to Adelmar’s home. She did not knock and simply entered, looking expectantly toward Renna to follow. Sladec was inside, no longer laughing, simply sitting with Machrus in silence. She wondered if they were doing so because of the intrusion, but somehow she doubted it.
“I do not believe Machrus had business with him,” Adelmar mused quietly to her, glancing behind and obviously noting the way Renna was studying the two men.
“Then why did he come?” she wondered aloud, thinking of all the things he must have had to tend to back at his home. His grenpeets seemed an eternal source of needfulness, and surely there were greater things to occupy his time.
Adelmar stopped and turned to her fully. “Likely because you would have need of him.”
Renna opened her mouth to retort that such was not possible—Machrus did things in his own way, at his own time, without typical regard for her feelings in the matter. But as he stood at her approach, it was more than apparent that nothing here truly required his attention, and she found her mouth had gone dry. He had come all this way just for her.
Well, perhaps.
And perhaps it was simply his duty that prompted him to do so, if it was in fact true—more of those obligations that had caused him to marry her at all.
Or perhaps he was simply being kind, and thoughtful, and that’s why he was here and offering his arm to her, his eyes full of what she now was willing to consider might truly be worry for her. Maybe. “You are finished so soon?”
Renna couldn’t seem to muster the ability to speak, and despite her lingering irritation, she was grateful when Adelmar answered for her. “Renna was... displeased by something we discussed. She would like to return home now.”
Machrus’s eyes narrowed, his expression returning to something far more familiar, though this time with a touch more accusation than she was used to.
She was surprised when it was Sladec who spoke first. “Adelmar,” he chastised, shaking his head. “Today was to be a welcome.”
The woman stood a little taller, her eyes flashing. Apparently marrying the sanmir did not demand complete deference. “I will not be shamed for speaking truth, husband. Her people do not think as well of the bond as others do. I am not to be blamed for that.”
Machrus sighed deeply, but did not feel the need to comment on the subject, for instead he glanced down at her. “Ready?”
She nodded, though she paused, looking back to Adelmar. It was not her fault for their circumstances, and though she was hurt, her disgruntlement was with the Marzon as a whole, not with her in particular. And she would so like to have a friend here.
“I am sorry for not staying longer,” she said sincerely, finding that she meant it. “I just... need to think.”
Adelmar turned her attention away from her husband. She looked sad and a bit wistful, but just for a moment, before she touched her fingertips briefly to her chest in parting. “You will do as you need, Renna. And we will be waiting to welcome you when you are prepared to accept it.”
Renna looked at Adelmar for a moment, trying to see if there was anything accusatory in her meaning, but nothing indicated so. And Machrus was waiting, apparently just for her, and she wished to talk with him. Truly talk. If only he would allow it.
Machrus kept himself to the outer edges of the platforms, Renna clutching firmly at his arm, but finding that her fear from earlier was dull in comparison to what it was. It would likely grow worse when faced with actually descending, but as he took her back toward the initial platform, this time she noted the faces as she passed, the lowered heads, the looks of nervous surprise to see that they were departing so soon.
“Will they be upset with me?” she asked quietly, wondering if he would also be. She had not performed well today, not with any of it, and for some reason the idea that he would be disappointed in her was a distressing one. It shouldn’t matter, not in the least, but foolishly she found that it did. “I made such a production about coming at all, and now to leave so quickly...”
Machrus glanced down at her, then to the people they passed. None lingered overlong, but still, she worried. He gave a grimace. “If they shall think anything at all, it is that you are to be pitied.”
She stopped suddenly in surprise? “Why?” Her stomach clenched as she realised precisely why. “Oh. Because... because I’m from obviously a silly race that is afraid of high places and can’t even walk properly without hanging on your arm.” Even saying it, she couldn’t quite bring herself to let him go. Not when they were heading toward a narrower bit of platform.
Machrus sighed deeply and resumed walking. “That is not why. They would feel pity for you because you were married to a man who has chosen to live apart. Solitude is considered punishment, and they will feel compassion that you are forced to join me in it.”
Renna wondered if it was all right to ask, but found that her desire for an answer outweighed her fear of upsetting him. “Are you? Being punished?”
Machrus’s expression hardened. “I chose my dwelling of my own volition. I was not sentenced there.”
They reached the lower platform, the one that she could now see possessed an intricate network of cords threaded throughout the branches. She could not say she understood how it worked, but at a nod, a man approached bowing his head and offering two lines.
“Do you wish to try yourself?” Machrus asked her, nodding to the cord.
Renna released a shaky breath. “Would you mind terribly if I said no?”
He did not answer her, only fastened the end of the line to the cuff on his arm and picked her up.
And then he jumped from the platform.
She clutched at him, a scream caught in her throat. It came out as a choked garble, her face pressed fully against his collar, braced for the rush of air, for the speedy fall that would meet with a jarring end upon the ground.
But there was none. They fell slowly, although the entire process seemed to take much less time than when they were ascending. And when at last Machrus’s feet were upon the ground, it was gentle, as if he was merely stepping down from a natural tread.
He tapped her once, apparently to prompt her to open her eyes, and she did so warily. “Down again,” he announced unnecessarily, though she realised it was his mild prodding to release him.
She blushed, heartened that he had not snapped at her, and scrambled down, her legs only a little shaky as she rested her full weight on them. “Thank you,” she told him most genuinely. “For... for coming, and for helping me.” If Adelmar had been correct, that he had only come here for her benefit, there was no masking her gratitude that he had relinquished those hours to her care. She could not have imagined the state she would be in with only Adelmar for support.
He paused, looking at her for a long moment, before his expression became inscrutable and he turned to walk away. “It is no matter,” he replied in passing, moving off and without waiting for her to follow.
She tried not to be stung at his curtness, at the way he simply expected her to run after him to catch up to his long stride, but she failed quite soundly as she did precisely that. Apparently he had overdrawn on his thoughtfulness for the day and she could expect surliness from him for the rest of it.
Renna sighed, resigned. This was not how she wished to speak to him about the bond, about how vulnerable her people truly were now that she knew the whole of it. But apparently that was how he would be, and wishing otherwise was a fruitless business.
She did not attempt to speak with him until they were free of most of the trees. People were still around them, some with baskets of foodstuffs, others with large jugs balanced on hips, filled with either water or some other liquid. Of course, if Machrus’s home could have water delivered so easily, it was likely that the rest of the Marzon had similar innovations that would not require such manual toil.
That such things were possible still amazed her. She had heard stories, of course, of what the world had be
en, of the ship that had brought her people to this planet in the first place. The older ones in their group had always had a note of bitterness when they spoke of that, of the system failure, the landing that was more a crash than anything else.
Did Machrus know of that now since he could rifle through her memories? He had told her he wouldn’t, Adelmar had suggested that he was indeed blocking her somehow, but she couldn’t be sure, understood so little of this that she had to blindly place her trust in him. But the others...
Would they think her people weak, living under years of meagre rations, of pandering to the Arterians’ every demand?
The mere thought of it rekindled her dwindling outrage, and when the trees opened to the large fields, Machrus’s home barely visible in the distance, she found the words falling freely, regardless of any prudence in waiting until they were safely within his dwelling.
“Do my people know?” she asked, not waiting for him to ask for clarification. “Do they know about the bond? That the moment it would happen—and you all made it very clear that it had to happen—all of our history, our technologies, all of it would be exposed to you?”
Do they know about me?
She felt like the worst kind of traitor, exposing all of her people’s secrets for the sake of language, of companionship, for the promise of a home and friendship and the restoration of all that was lost. Not in the same ways, of course, but in principle...
Her ever present shame flared anew. She had been so stupid before, and it had cost her dearly, and to learn that she could be so easily drawn in again...
“If you will remember,” Machrus replied, not pausing in his steps, not turning to look at her fully, only sparing her the briefest glance. “I cautioned against proceeding with it.”
She felt as if he’d struck her, recoiling. Anger, hot and fearsome, made her open her mouth to rage, her hands clutched into fists as hurtful words threatened to escape.
Except he was not the source of her fury.
She was.
For as careful as she had thought herself to be, for as determined as she was to keep her life before hidden, to keep her people safe with her silence, she had failed, utterly and completely. She had been drawn in by the Marzon’s warmth, by their smiles and promise of home. And she’d wanted it. Wanted them to be as kind as they appeared, wanted to be a part of their people. For once not to starve and haggle for even the smallest comfort.
To be a new person, whose past was unknown, who wasn’t looked at with pity or with judgement.
Her throat ached and foolish tears prickled at her eyes, and she sat down hard upon the ground, not caring if Machrus continued on and left her there.
It was not long before she felt him standing over her, but she could not bring herself to look. Not when she still sobbed, when she must look so pathetic in what was turning into such a debacle of a day.
“How much do they know about me?” she choked out, her true question coming out at last. “How much do you know?”
She heard a weary sigh above her, but she did not care if he was annoyed with her. Not now. Not when she so desperately needed to know the extent of her situation.
“Renna,” Machrus coaxed, lowering down so at least he was no longer looming. “I will take you home and we will discuss it there.”
She laughed, a brittle noise that sounded mad even to her. “I don’t have a home. Never have, never will.” That wasn’t precisely true. Home had been her parents, while they lived. Their dwelling had been as insufficient as everyone else’s, but she’d been loved and that was enough.
Until they were gone, and she was alone, and she’d been so stupid and...
“Renna,” he tried again, his voice sounding somewhat strained. By what she couldn’t imagine. Perhaps her feelings were too acute, too strong to simply be ignored, her anguish pushing through his boundary until it was impossible to ignore. She tried to compose herself, to wipe at her eyes in hopes of finding some measure of calm, but still she shook, not succeeding much at all.
“How much?” she pressed, wanting him to give her a simple answer.
She didn’t expect him to touch her, not given his aversion to it, so when his fingers were beneath her chin, bidding her to look at him, it startled her sobs into the occasional hiccough. “I know what you have told me. And what little I saw, I enquired about already. Do you not remember?”
She did. Of course she did. And she had hated even what bit he had seen, that one of her greatest sorrows had been witnessed, not only by Desmond, but now by Machrus too.
“Do you believe me?”
His eyes were green, so very green, and he was looking at her with such earnestness that she could not help but place at least some of her trust in him. At least in this. “Yes,” she murmured, her tears abating some now that she had him to focus on. “But what about the others?”
His fingers fell away but their postures did not otherwise change. He was kneeling before her, much taller than she even now, and she had to keep her head tilted to look at him. His mouth tightened as it so often did, irritation returning to his features. At first she thought it was directed at her, but his grumbling proved otherwise. “Adelmar should not have spoken at all if she was not willing to give an adequate explanation.”
Renna shifted slightly on her knees. “I didn’t...” she huffed out a breath, her throat strained from all her crying. “I was upset, and I didn’t give her much opportunity to explain things better.”
As if a change in wording would have altered her reaction any.
Machrus continued to study her, his face returning to something more placid. “Perhaps it would help me to know what you believe the bond creates.”
He still was not answering her most pressing question, much to her annoyance. Her continued ignorance as to how much of herself—her thoughts, her feelings—had been exposed to his people caused her tone to be more curt than she would have liked.
“You want to know what I think it is?” His calmness slipped momentarily into incredulity, for apparently it was a needless statement, and her exasperation grew. “It’s a window. A window that you or any of your people can look through into my memories, my experiences. Everything I’ve ever learned is suddenly open to view, without any regard to whether or not I want it to be.” The despair was creeping in on her again, and she clutched at her arms, tears threatening to begin afresh. “Everything that’s happened, everything I’ve done, all of you could see and...”
“And what?” Machrus asked, his tone not as offended as she had feared it would be. His natural timbre was low, almost gruff in a way, so to hear it gentled made her look up at him. She still could not make out his expression. “What do you fear would happen then?”
She released a sound far too near a snort, her hand quickly covering her mouth as she tried to settle her emotions. She failed miserably. “That something I do, something I have done will void the agreement. With every day that passes, my people are growing more accustomed to being where they are. They’ll be building houses and growing food—or I hope they are—and if I do something wrong... if you learn of something I’ve done, then it’ll be over.”
Renna hung her head, slumping backward, not able to look at him any longer.
He was silent for a long while as she cried, unmoving as she presumed he watched her. She had thought it would be soothing to speak of her great fear, but instead it lingered, gnawing and violent in her stomach as she waited for him to speak. To bring judgement on all she had not only done, but thought.
“Perhaps...” Machrus began, and she winced in anticipation of what would follow. “Perhaps Adelmar was right in some respect. I have done you no favours by withholding certain explanations.”
Renna had not expected that, and she glanced at him briefly. “Why did you?”
This time he was the one to look away. “Conversation is not something I have... desired for a long while. But I had no wish to injure you with its absence.”
She didn’t wan
t to admit that he had, not when she was pathetic enough already. She had liked silence once too, had preferred it greatly to the companionable chatter of her fellow workers. Yet something had changed. Well, everything had changed.
“Are you saying I’m wrong?”
“Not entirely.” She flinched at that, and he resumed his study of her. “Your description is not entirely without merit if you were referring to our mate-bond.” A lump formed in her throat, tight and raw, and despite her efforts for calm, her lip trembled. “However,” he stressed, leaning closer so she would look at him. “Did we not agree that to shutter that window would be agreeable to both of us?”
She nodded, remembering that Adelmar had confirmed that it had been so. “She said that was wrong to do,” Renna confessed quietly. “Especially when everyone else can...”
“They cannot,” Machrus cut in rather harshly. Or perhaps he merely intended to be firm. In either regard, she fell silent, and he gentled, if only a little. “To be born to the Marzon... it is not as you say, where any can simply peer into another, invasive and cruel in their intention. It is to be a part of a whole. Memories are your own, your thoughts as well. It is knowledge that is shared, skills, craft. From generation to generation.”
“Craft?” Her mind tried to comprehend what he was saying, but it was difficult. All the Marzon were linked, but not all in the same manner. That was comforting, she supposed, in its way. But what she might have added to that collective still frightened her.
Machrus gave a nod of confirmation. “The carvings in my home are new, yes?”
She shrugged, not having given it much thought. But they must be, hadn’t they? His people thought it odd that he lived apart, so she doubted that his dwelling had simply lain vacant, awaiting his choice. “Yes,” she confirmed.
“You have noticed the woodworking,” again, another nod. There was no mistaking it. “Did you notice that of Adelmar’s home?”
“Yes,” she affirmed. “It was just as lovely.”
For the first time, it seemed that her answer had actually pleased him. It was an odd thing to behold, the smallest of twitches of his lips suggesting the barest of smiles, yet it was enough to make her gape before she composed herself.
Trade (Deridia Book 2) Page 17