by neetha Napew
Mary was quite used to the rhythm of morning and afternoon coffee breaks, and an hour off for lunch, but the Neanderthal metabolism didn’t let them go that long without eating. There were two long breaks in the workday, one at about 11:00A. M. , and the other at about 3:00P .M ., and at both of them, great quantities of food were consumed, including raw meat-the same laser technique that killed infections inside people made uncooked meat quite safe to eat, and Neanderthal jaws were more than up to the task. But Mary’s stomach wasn’t; she sat with Lurt and her colleagues while they ate, but tried to keep from looking at their food.
She could have excused herself during the meal breaks, but this was Lurt’s time off, and Mary wanted to talk with her. She was fascinated by what the Neanderthals knew about genetics-and Lurt seemed quite willing to freely share it all.
Indeed, Mary learned so much in her short time with Lurt, she was beginning to think just about anything was possible-especially if there were no men around.
Chapter Thirty-two
Mary had been to a dozen or so weddings over the years-several Catholic, one Jewish, one traditional Chinese, and a few civil services. So she thought she knew in vague terms what to expect at Jasmel’s bonding ceremony.
She was wrong.
Of course, she knew that the ceremony could not take place in a hall of worship-the Neanderthals had no such thing. Still, she’d expected some sort of official venue. Instead, the event took place out in the countryside.
Ponter was already there when a travel cube dropped off Mary; they were the first to arrive, and, since no one was around, they indulged in a long hug.
“Ah,” said Ponter, after they’d separated, “here they come.” It was bright out here. Mary had discovered she’d forgotten her sunglasses back on the other side, and she had to squint to make out the approaching party. It consisted of three women-one in her late thirties, Mary thought, another who was a teenager, and a child of eight. Ponter looked at Mary, then at the approaching women, and back again. Mary tried to read the expression on his face; had he been one of her own kind, she might have thought it was profound discomfort, as if he’d realized that he’d unexpectedly landed in an awkward situation.
The three females were walking, and they were coming from the east-from the direction of the Center. The oldest and youngest were carrying nothing, but the middle one had a large pack strapped to her back. As they got nearer, the little girl shouted out, “Daddy!” and ran toward Ponter, who scooped her up in a hug.
The other two were walking more slowly, the older female keeping pace beside the younger one, who seemed to be trudging along, weighed down by the pack.
Ponter had now released the eight-year-old, and, holding one of the child’s hands, turned and faced Mary. “Mare, this is my daughter, Mega Bek. Mega, this is my friend, Mare.”
Mega had clearly had eyes only for her father to this point. She looked Mary up and down. “Wow,” she said at last. “You are a Gliksin, right?”
Mary smiled. “Yes, I am,” she said, letting her strapped-on Companion translate her words into the Neanderthal tongue.
“Would you come to my school?” asked Mega. “I would like to show you to the other kids!”
Mary was a bit startled; she’d never thought of herself as a show-and-tell exhibit. “Umm, if I have the time,” she said.
The other two had now drawn near. “This is my other daughter, Jasmel Ket,” said Ponter, indicating the eighteen-year-old.
“Hello,” said Mary. She looked at the girl, but had no idea whether she was considered attractive by Neanderthal standards. Still, she did have her father’s arresting golden eyes. “I’m-“ she decided not to embarrass the girl by putting forth a name she wouldn’t be able to pronounce. “I’m Mare Vaughan.”
“Hello, Scholar Vaughan,” said Jasmel, who must have heard of her before; otherwise, she’d have had no idea how to parse Mary’s name. And, indeed, Jasmel’s next comment confirmed that. “You gave my father that bit of metal,” she said.
Mary was lost for a moment, but then realization dawned. The crucifix. “Yes,” said Mary.
“I saw you once before,” said Jasmel, “on a monitor when we were rescuing my father, but...” She shook her head in wonder. “Even so, I still did not really believe it.”
“Well,” said Mary, “here I am.” She paused. “I hope you don’t mind me coming to your bonding ceremony.”
Whether she really did or not, Jasmel had her father’s courtesy. “No, of course not. I am delighted you are here.”
Ponter spoke up quickly, perhaps, thought Mary, detecting that his daughter was secretly displeased, and wanting to move along before the topic came into the open. “And this is-was-my daughter’s guardian.” He looked at the thirty-eight-year-old. “I, ah, hadn’t expected you,” he said.
The Neanderthal woman’s eyebrow moved up her browridge. “Apparently not,” she said, glancing at Mary.
“Ah,” said Ponter, “yes, well, this is Mare Vaughan-the woman I told you about from the other side. Mare, this is Daklar Bolbay.”
“My God,” said Mary, and her Companion bleeped, unable to translate the phrase.
“Yes?” said Daklar, prodding Mary to try again.
“I-ah, I mean, pleased to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“And I you,” said Daklar evenly.
Mary forced a smile and looked away.
“Daklar,” explained Ponter, “was the woman-mate of my woman-mate, Klast, and so she had served as Jasmel’s guardian. He turned pointedly to Daklar. “Until Jasmel reached the age of majority when she reached 225 months in the spring, that is.”
Mary tried to follow the undercurrents. It seemed that Ponter was saying that since Daklar had no official role in Jasmel’s life anymore, she shouldn’t be here. Well, Mary could certainly understand Ponter’s discomfort. Daklar, after all, had tried to have Adikor castrated.
But whatever awkwardness Ponter felt was interrupted by the arrival of still more people: a male and a female Neanderthal, each looking to be approaching fifty.
“These are Tryon’s parents,” said Ponter. “Bal Durban,” he continued, indicating the male, “and Yabla Pol. Bal, Yabla, this is my friend Mare Vaughan.”
Bal had a booming voice. “No need to introduce her,” he said. “I’ve been watching you on my Voyeur.”
Mary tried to suppress a shudder. She’d caught sight of the occasional silver outfit, but she’d had no idea that she had been the object of the Exhibitionists’ attention.
“Look at you!” said Yabla. “All skin and bones! Do they have enough food in your world?”
In her whole life, no one had ever referred to Mary as “skin and bones.” She rather liked the sound of it. “Yes,” she said, blushing a bit.
“Well, tonight we feast,” said Yabla. “One meal cannot undo ten months of neglect, but we will make a good start!”
Mary smiled politely.
Bal turned to his woman-mate. “What is keeping that boy of yours?” he said.
“Who knows?” said Yabla, her tone one of gentle teasing. “He clearly got his time sense from you.”
“Here he comes,” shouted Jasmel, still wearing her heavy pack.
Mary looked in the direction the girl was pointing. A figure was emerging in the distance, trudging toward them, something large slung across his shoulders. It looked like it would be several minutes before he closed the distance, though. Mary leaned over to Ponter. “What’s your daughter’s intended’s name again?”
Ponter frowned for a moment, evidently listening to Hak trying to make sense out of the question. “Oh,” he said at last. “Tryon Rugal.”
“I don’t understand your names,” said Mary. “I mean, ‘Vaughan’ is my family name: both my parents, both my brothers, and my sister all share it.” She shielded her eyes with a hand as she looked out at the approaching boy again.
Ponter was looking that way, too, but his browridge was all the shielding he needed. “The
last name, the one that is used by the outside world, is chosen by the father; the first name, the one that is used by those one knows well, is chosen by the mother. You see the sense of it? Fathers live at the periphery; mothers in the center. My father chose ‘Boddit’ for me, which means ‘wonderfully handsome’ and my mother chose ‘Ponter,’ which means ‘magnificently intelligent.’”
“You’re kidding,” said Mary.
Ponter cracked his giant grin. “Yes, I am. Sorry; I just wanted something as impressive as your own ‘mother of God.’ Seriously, ‘Ponter’ means ‘full moon,’ and ‘Boddit’ is the name of a city in Evsoy, known for its great painters.”
“Ah,” said Mary. “Then-my God!”
“Well,” said Ponter, still in a kidding mood, “he certainly is not mine.”
“No, look!” She pointed at Tryon.
“Yes?” said Ponter.
“He’s carrying a deer carcass!”
“You noticed that?” Ponter smiled. “It is his hunting offering to Jasmel. And in her pack, she has her gathering offering for him.”
Indeed, Jasmel was finally unslinging her pack. Perhaps, thought Mary, it was traditional to wait until the man had seen that the woman had brought the goods herself. As Tryon came closer, Ponter moved toward him and helped him get the deer off his shoulders.
Mary’s stomach turned. The deer’s hide was bloody, a half dozen wounds piercing its torso. And, as Tryon bent over, she saw that his own back was slick with deer blood.
“Does someone have to officiate over the ceremony?” asked Mary.
Ponter looked confused. “No.”
“We have a judge or a representative of the church do it,” said Mary.
“Jasmel and Tryon’s pledges to each other will automatically be recorded at the alibi archives,” said Ponter.
Mary nodded. Of course.
Now that Tryon was free of the deer, he ran toward his dear. Jasmel accepted him with open arms, and they hugged tightly, and licked each other’s faces, rather passionately. Mary found herself looking away.
“Come on,” said Tryon’s father, Bal. “It will take tenths to roast that deer. We should get on with it.”
The two let go of each other. Mary saw that Jasmel’s hands were now stained red from running them up Tryon’s back. It disgusted Mary, but Jasmel just laughed when she noticed it.
And, without further preamble, the ceremony was apparently under way. “All right,” said Jasmel. “Here we go.” She turned to Tryon. “I promise to hold you in my heart twenty-nine days a month, and to hold you in my arms whenever Two become One.”
Mary looked at Ponter. The muscles of his wide jaw were bunching; he was clearly moved.
“I promise,” continued Jasmel, “that your health and your happiness will be as important to me as my own.”
Daklar was clearly moved, too. After all, as Mary understood it, she and Jasmel had lived together all of Jasmel’s life.
Jasmel spoke again: “If, at any time, you tire of me, I promise to release you without acrimony, and with the best interests of our children as my highest priority.”
Mary was impressed by that. How much simpler her own life would have been if she and Colm had made a similar pledge. She looked again at Ponter, and-
Jesus!
Daklar had moved to stand next to him, and-Mary could scarcely believe it-the two of them were holding hands!
It was apparently Tryon’s turn to speak now. “I promise,” he said, “to hold you in my heart twenty-nine days a month, and to hold you in my arms whenever Two become One.”
Two becoming One,thought Mary. Surely that had already happened once here in the time between Ponter’s first returning home and his reappearance on Mary’s Earth. She’d assumed he’d spent that time alone, but...
“I promise,” said Tryon, “that your happiness and wellbeing will be as important to me as my own.”
“If you ever tire of me,” he continued, “I promise to release you without pain, and with the best interests of our children as my highest priority.”
Ordinarily, Mary would be delighted to hear such absolute parity in the marital pledges-she’d had to fight Colm to get the “and obey” part struck from what she was supposed to recite. But that thought was entirely subordinate to her shock to find that Ponter and Daklar were affectionate toward each other-and after what she’d done to Adikor!
Little Mega startled Mary by clapping her hands together once. “They are bonded!” she squealed. For half a second, Mary thought the girl was referring to Ponter and Daklar, but, no, no, that was ridiculous.
Bal slapped his own hands against his stomach. “Now that we have finished with that,” he said, “let us get to work preparing the feast!”
Chapter Thirty-three
“What are you?” asked Selgan, shaking his head in wonder. “A moron?”
“Daklar wasn’t supposed to be there!” said Ponter. “A bonding ceremony involves only parents and the two children being bonded. There’s no role for the same-sex mates of the parents.”
“But Daklar wastabantof your daughters.”
“Not of Jasmel,” said Ponter. “Jasmel had reached the age of majority; she no longer had a legal guardian.”
“But you had brought Mare along,” said Selgan.
“Yes. I make no apology for that: it was my right to bring someone in Klast’s place.” Ponter frowned. “Daklar should not have been there.” Selgan scratched his scalp where it was exposed by his wide part. “You people in the physical sciences,” he said, shaking his head again. “You expect humans to behave predictably, to follow immutable laws. But they don’t.”
Ponter snorted. “Tell me about it.”
To Mary’s horror, everyone was supposed to participate in flensing the deer. Bal and Yabla, as parents of the-the “groom”; Mary couldn’t help using the term-had brought sharp metal knives, and Bal slit the deer from throat to tail. Mary hadn’t been prepared for the sight of so much blood, and she excused herself, walking a short distance away.
It was cold here, in the Neanderthal world, and it was getting colder. The sun was close to setting.
Mary had her back to the group, but after a few moments, she heard footfalls on the first autumn leaves behind her. She assumed it was Ponter, come to offer some comfort...and an explanation. But Mary’s heart jumped when she heard Daklar’s deep voice.
“You seem uncomfortable with the skinning of the deer,” she said.
“I’ve never done anything like that before,” Mary replied, turning around. She could see that Yabla and little Mega were now off gathering wood for a fire.
“That is all right. We have an extra pair of hands here anyway.”
At first Mary thought Daklar was making a reference to her own presence, which had clearly surprised Ponter. And then, Mary thought, perhaps Daklar was taking a dig at her. “Ponter invited me,” Mary said, not liking the defensive tone in her voice.
“So I see,” said Daklar.
Mary, knowing she would regret doing so but unable to stop herself, pushed the issue. “I don’t see how you can be here all sweetness and light after what you did to Adikor.”
Daklar was quiet for a time, and Mary was unable to read her expression. “I see,” the Neanderthal woman said at last, “that our Ponter has been telling you things.”
Mary didn’t like the phrasing “our Ponter,” but said nothing in reply. After a moment, Daklar continued: “What precisely did he tell you?”
“That while Ponter was in my world, you had Adikor charged with his murder-Adikor! Whom Ponter loves!”
Daklar lifted her eyebrow. “Did he tell what the principal piece of evidence against Adikor was?”
Mary knew that Daklar was a gatherer, not a hunter, but Mary felt as though she were being maneuvered into a trap. She shook her head through an arc of only a few degrees. “There was no evidence,” said Mary, “because there was no crime.”
“Not that time, no. But before.” Daklar paused, and
her tone sounded a little haughty, a little condescending. “I’m sure Ponter hasn’t told you about his damaged jaw.”
But Mary wanted to assert her intimacy with the man. “He told meall about it. I’ve even seen X rays of it.”
“Well, then, you should understand. Adikor had tried once before to kill Ponter, so-“
Suddenly Daklar broke off, and her eyes went wide as she apparently read some sign in Mary’s face. “You did not know it was Adikor, did you? Ponter had not taken you that far into his confidence, had he?”
Mary felt her heart pounding rapidly. She didn’t trust herself to make a reply.
“Well,” said Daklar, “then Ido have new information for you. Yes, it was Adikor Huld who punched Ponter in the face. I submitted as evidence images from Ponter’s alibi archive showing the attack.”
Mary and Colm had had their problems-no question-but he had never hit her. Although she knew it was all too common, she couldn’t imagine staying with a physically abusive spouse, but...
But it had been just once, and-
No. No, had Ponter been female, Mary never would have forgiven Adikor for hitting him even once, just as...
She hated to think about it, hated whenever it came to mind.
Just as she had never forgiven her father for having once hit her mother, decades ago.
But Ponterwas a man, was physically the equal of Adikor, and-
And yet, nothing-nothing-excused such behavior. To hit someone you were supposed to love!
Mary had no reply for Daklar, and, after sufficient time had elapsed that this was obvious, the Neanderthal woman went on. “So you see, my charge against Adikor wasnot unfounded. Yes, I regret it now, but...”
She trailed off. To this point, Daklar had shown no unwillingness to give voice to any thought, and so Mary wondered what it was that she was leaving unsaid. And then it hit her. “But you were blinded by the thought of losing Ponter.”