to check the status of our city. He didn't need word of mouth for that.
“I saw your manor standing, and hoped I could beg some ounce of hospitality.”
“Hospitality doesn't exist here,” I said.
“Minda,” Letta piped up gently, as if in warning.
She was about to make me look foolish because, in the end, I respected those compassionate ways of theirs so much, wasn't she? I would deny this chap like I had cold authority, and she would object and compel me to take it back and be more amiable.
“We have nothing to spare,” I tried again, determined.
Resignation came to his face again. That's it, I thought triumphantly. Keep that bit of decency. Humility will be your one redeeming quality. Don't lose it.
“I see,” he said, and I nodded with approval.
I willed Letta to stay docilely quiet behind me, but could barely help from cringing imagining her impending protest. But Tanen spoke before she could;
“Thank you for receiving me,” he said as he turned away, and took the first steps away from our manor.
“Minda,” Letta objected more loudly, not to have her voice excluded. “He can't go back out there now. It's getting dark.”
Tanen paused to glance over his shoulder at the potential exchange. A small trace of hope returned to his face, but he waited patiently.
“He's lasted this long,” I pointed out. “He's come all the way across the country, Letta. I'm sure it's gotten dark once or twice between here and there.”
“You should be ashamed, Vant,” she said, and she had me. A lump of hurt and vengeful humiliation caught in my throat as my judgment was overturned in front of the man I had turned away. But I could not help it. The conviction of the darkskins affected me. My eyes fell to the porch as Letta turned to Tanen.
“We have a fire for warmth, and a corner for sleep,” she told him hospitably.
He doesn't like you, I wanted to tell her, to convince her she was loathe to be kind to him. He has opinions about you. He would demote you. Demean you. Shame you. Don't cater to him, Letta. He would triumphantly take advantage of her and think nothing of it.
“Thank you, Monvay,” he said – and it was true; he looked more triumphant than grateful. I ignored the fact that he had called her 'Monvay'. My eyes, risen from their shame, seared into him with unwelcoming disdain. He suffered that conviction, even acknowledged it, but turned back in acceptance of Letta's offer.
What have you done? I despaired in regards to Letta's blind generosity. We had just welcomed a stranger into our house. One who called the darkskins by that dreaded name, who carried a superior and otherwise unknown air about him.
And if he had survived in the dark all those nights of his journey, and blazed a trail across the entire forsaken country, I had to make the evident assumption:
This man was dangerous.
E I g h t –
Elephant Dreams
When the others came down and saw him, there was an initial mutual graveness that settled over them. A spark of triumph lit in me at that, but it was seemingly only the initial shock of a stranger in our midst. They did not necessarily fall right into a comfortable arrangement after it sank in, but none of them seemed to hold the disdain toward this fellow that I did.
And of course; that was their way. Why could I not be more like them? But I was stubborn in this. I would not have it.
I pulled Dani and Viola to me, sheltering them with a pointed look into Tanen's sly sky eyes. He was not to come near them. He understood that from my look.
“Nothing to gape at here, children,” I said. “Back to work with you.” I did not fear that there would be any trouble from their end, curious children though they were. They seemed nothing but shy in Tanen's unorthodox presence.
They slipped off into the other room together, a hustle of little skirts and trousers. I turned away and went back to the kitchen, for my stew was surely turning to stone by now from neglect. I picked up where I had left off, chopping the remaining vegetables with considerable more force to attest to my vexation than before.
But then a figure in his fancy white shirt and breeches strolled in, and I measured my cutting more tediously. I did not look up.
He leaned against the counter behind me. With every thunk of my knife,