Tallea’s eyes widened.
“I didn’t want to tell you,” Orick admitted. “I was afraid it might sound like a commitment, a commitment I’m not ready to make. But even when you were human with hairless skin and those gangly legs, I still … uh, cared for you.”
“What are you trying to say?” Tallea asked. Orick felt that she knew what he wanted to say, but she was going to make, him confess.
“Uh, Tallea, I think I have strong feelings for you.”
Tallea perked up her ears, just as some dogs do, and stared at him. “I know,” she said. “You love me. Why don’t you admit it? You want to marry me.”
“I’m not saying that!” Orick stammered. “Just because I like you, doesn’t mean we have to do anything rash.”
Tallea laughed. “Still, I know you love me. You show it in everything you do-in the way you look at me when you think I don’t see. I felt it as a human, when you licked my ankles or warmed me at nights with your fur. You love me. You’ve always loved me. That’s part of your nature.”
“Yes, but I’m not making a commitment,” Orick blurted.
“You’re committed to the things you love,” Tallea said. “It’s a part of you. You can’t separate commitment from love. Right now, Gallen might well be walking to his death, and you’re going to tag along. Why? Because you love him. You say you want to be a priest and serve God. Why? Because you love Him. You can’t just walk away from God, any more than you can walk away from Gallen O’Day. And you can’t walk away from me. Why?”
“Because I love you,” Orick said.
Tallea grinned, a gesture that looked foolish on humans and more so on bears. “Yes,” she said. “You want to marry me. You want to commit, but you can’t. Not until you figure out how to serve all of us at once.”
“Yes,” Orick said, “but I’ve already made a commitment to God. I made promises to Him.”
“To serve Him?” Tallea said. “But how do we serve Him? You told me just this morning. `When ye are in the service of your fellow beings, ye are only in the service of God.’ So I ask you, Orick, isn’t marrying me the same as marrying God?”
Orick stood there, flabbergasted. “That’s a pretty loose interpretation of that Scripture.”
“Is it?” Tallea said. “You take the Scriptures literally most of the time. Why not this one? Is it just inconvenient?”
“Well,” Orick said, “you’re stretching it. Besides, that’s just a line from the Tome. Not everyone accepts it as Scripture.”
“You told me if I prayed, God would answer my prayers,” Tallea said. “So here is my prayer: ‘God, you know I love Orick and Orick loves me. If you think his devotion to You is more important than his devotion to me, I pray that You will strike me dead by sundown. I’d rather die than live without him.’”
Orick gulped, fearing Tallea had blasphemed. It wasn’t right to say an insincere prayer. The problem was, he feared just as much that it was sincere. He looked about the room, wondering if God would strike her with a lightning bolt or if He would choose some other weapon. To tell the truth, if she was going to follow Gallen O’Day into the tangle, God might not need anything more than a cold-hearted sfuz.
“Don’t talk like that,” Orick said, taking a sudden chill. “I wouldn’t want God to answer that prayer.”
“It’s too late,” Tallea said. “The prayer has been said. But I’m not afraid. You said God loves me, and I know you love me. God won’t deny me your companionship.”
“We seldom appreciate what God has in store for us,” Orick said. “We all seek comfort in our lives, but God just gives us problems, to make us grow.”
“You forget how many difficulties I’ve already had to contend with,” Tallea said. “God can only stretch a person so far before He begins ripping them apart.” She sounded angry.
“Don’t go getting all riled at God,” Orick said. “He’ll never let you be tempted beyond that which you are able to bear.”
“Of course not, you and I both can bear more than the next man.”
Orick. wrinkled his nose at the pun. “Back on Tihrglas, there always seemed to be a few folks who’d make such puns at a bear’s expense. I grew tired of hearing such jokes as a cub-everything from tales of bear-breasted women to those old stories of a bear named Repeating who always repeats everything you say. I get so mad when I hear those jokes, I can bearly stand it.”
“I’ll try to remembear that,” Tallea said, “next time I bear my soul to you.”
“If you’re going to bear your sole to me, at least put a little fish sauce on it, please,” Orick said.
Tallea said, “Ah, no fish jokes. I had a pet sole, once. His name was Full.”
“Soulful?” Orick said. “Was he your sole possession?”
Tallea winced. “Okay, I won’t play that game with you anymore. I’m beat.”
“Bear me no malice,” Orick said.
With a growl, Tallea leapt from the bed and landed on Orick’s back. She nipped his ear, and Orick backed away, put one paw on her chest to hold her down. He planned to chew her for a minute, but suddenly she had her paws around his head, and Tallea began licking his eyes and muzzle, kissing him passionately, and Orick’s heart pounded with excitement.
He kissed her in return, more lustily than he first intended, and in moments she held his face and began alternately nipping his lips and licking him. Tallea was on her back, and Orick straddled her, his nostrils filled with the scent of her. Knowing how much she wanted him, Orick found himself enticed beyond measure.
But to give in to her, to give her control of his passion would lead to only one conclusion. Am I a beast, that I must be so controlled? Orick wondered. It seemed so base, so corrupt. How could Orick aspire to godliness, if God gave him such lusts. God help me, Orick prayed. God save me from her.
It was not until hours later, when they were marching through the tangle, that Orick considered the prayers that he and Tallea had both uttered, and realized that God could only answer both their prayers by taking Tallea’s life.
Chapter 31
Zeus could not sleep. Though he had a couch in the common room of the ship, and though the lights were turned down to simulate darkness, his eyes stayed wide open as he wondered if he should kill Gallen and the others.
Zeus did not count himself brave. He couldn’t make light of danger. Some people could ignore danger, just as they ignored pain. Not Zeus. His sense of self-preservation was too powerful, too encompassing. Maybe ignoring danger isn’t really brave, Zeus considered. Maybe it’s just a form of stupidity, and I’m too smart to fall into that trap.
When Gallen had found the Qualeewoohs, Zeus had been tempted to slay the Lord Protector then. But something stayed his hand. At first he told himself it was curiosity-the simple desire to find out what Gallen would do with the Qualeewoohs.
But his reasoning went beyond that. Killing Gallen for his mantle would have been easy. Zeus had no feelings for the man. But Orick’s sermon had shamed Zeus.
Killing Gallen was one thing. Zeus had been framed to crave power, to take it at any price. He’d killed Arachne without much thought. But killing an innocent like Maggie or the bears was beneath him.
This realization struck Zeus to the core. Zeus had not often made such self-discoveries. And when Gallen asked Zeus whether to kill the Qualeewoohs, Zeus had declined. Once he’d seen Herm’s killers, Zeus couldn’t sustain his rage. The birds were so regal, so worn, so repentant. He couldn’t kill them, not when their deaths gained him nothing. But Zeus told himself that it was more than compassion that caused him to spare Gallen and the Qualeewoohs: it was knowledge.