The next day they picked up a hitchhiker. He was the first human they had seen since leaving Hyperion. A small naked man with a flowing black beard, he stood on the riverbank and hailed them, then swam out to climb into Cirocco's canoe when she granted permission. Chris maneuvered his boat close to get a look at him. From the looseness of his pale, weathered skin, he must have been in his sixties. He spoke a clipped, slangy version of English, with a Titanide singsong flavor. He invited them to eat at the settlement where he lived, and Cirocco accepted for the group.
The place was called Brazelton and consisted of several domes set in an area of plowed fields. As they docked, Chris caught sight of a naked man following a plow drawn by a team of Titanides.
There were about twenty Brazeltonians. They were nudists by religion. Everyone had a beard, men and women alike. On Earth, female facial hair was a fad which had come and gone several times in the twenty-first century. Now it was rare, but seeing the bearded women reminded Chris of his own childhood, when his mother had worn a neat goatee. He rather liked it.
Gaby did not know a great deal about the settlement but told him that the group practiced incest. The man they had picked up was known as Gramps, and it was not a nickname. Others were called things like Mother and Son3. There was a Great Gra'mama, but no male of her generation. As children were born, everyone moved up into a different name.
Robin thought the arrangement very strange, and Chris heard her say so to Gaby.
"I agree," Gaby said. "But they're no loonier than a lot of other little groups of exiles scattered through Gaea. And you'd do well to remember that your own Coven probably looked pretty odd when it got started. Hell, it still would, if anybody on Earth was asked about it. Your mothers went to Sargasso Point; these days the fringe groups come here if they're small enough to get Gaea's permission."
The customs were not the only strange thing about the group. There were some odd individuals. Chris saw his first human-Titanide hybrids. One woman, otherwise unremarkable, had the long ears of a Titanide and a naked tail that reached to her knees. There were two Titanides with human legs and feet. By the time he saw them Chris was sufficiently accustomed to Titanide legs that it was the hybrids who seemed misshapen.
He spoke to Cirocco about it, but his knowledge of genetics was not sufficient to understand what she was saying. He suspected she might not know as much about it as she claimed. The fact was that Gaea had allowed no human studies of Titanide genes, nor had any hybrid ever left Gaea. It remained mysterious how two such dissimilar animals could be cross-fertile.
Inglesina was a low island eight kilometers long and three wide in the eastern reaches of Crius, near Phoebe, the Twilight Sea. Near its center was a perfect ring of trees, carefully tended, two kilometers in diameter. Everything outside that circle was covered with the tents of the celebrants.
The island was reached by six wide wooden bridges, now decked in ribbons and banners. To the north and south were marinas where broad-beamed Titanide barges docked. Near them were beaches for the landing of smaller craft. The river was alive with them. Crian Titanides spent more time on the water than their cousins in Hyperion. Fully as many arrived on the river as poured over the causeways after overland treks.
They would stay the traditional two hectorevs-nine Earth days. Valiha pitched a tent for Chris behind the airy white confection set aside for the Wizard, and the tents of Robin and Gaby went up beside his. He went out to sample the festivities.
The Crians were fully as hospitable as the Hyperionites had been, but Chris found it difficult to enjoy himself. He kept fearing he would run into Siilihi. There was the persistent feeling that the story of his attempted assault on her had made the rounds, that everyone knew about him and held something in reserve, fearing he would repeat the incident. No one did or said anything to make him think that; no one was less than completely friendly. It was certainly his own fear and no one else's, but knowing that did not help. He was reserved and unable to change it.
Robin was still spending many nights with him, though his lost tent had now been replaced. He was not sure why she did so. He welcomed the companionship, but sometimes it was difficult. She was careful not to undress in front of him after her discovery on the beach of Nox. This annoyed him because the efforts required to remain modest while they shared a tent pointed up her unavailability. Several times he thought of asking her to leave. Yet he thought she might be demonstrating her lack of fear and thus her acceptance of him as a friend. It was a gesture he did not wish to discourage, so he tossed and turned while she slept like a child.
On the fifth night it was worse than ever. He could not get to sleep, try as he might. He put his hands behind his head and stared at the pale light coming through the tent ceiling and thought black thoughts. Tomorrow he would kick her out, one way or the other. There were limits.
"Is something the matter?"
He looked at her, surprised to see that she was awake.
"Can't get to sleep."
"What's the problem?"
He threw his hands up, searched for words, then thought, why be delicate?
"I'm horny. You go too long without making love, you're surrounded by attractive women all day long... it builds up, that's all."
"I've got the same kind of problem," she said.
He opened his mouth to suggest a solution, thought about it, and closed his mouth again. What a waste of such a symmetrical solution, he thought. You scratch my back... .
"You did say we were much the same," she said. "I thought that's what had been bothering you." When he only grunted, she opened her sleeping bag and sat up. She reached across and touched a finger to his lips. "Would you show me how?"
He looked at her, not daring to believe, but feeling more desire than he had known since he was a teenager.
"Why? Do you find me attractive, or are you just curious?"
"I'm curious," she admitted. "I'm not sure about the other yet. There is something there. Cirocco said that what I have been told is raping can be a lot like making love. She said a woman can get pleasure from it. I'm dubious." She raised one eyebrow. A few weeks ago Chris would not have seen the gesture behind the elaborate facial tattoos, but now he felt more in tune with her. He threw off his sleeping bag and took her in his arms.
She seemed surprised that he did not simply enter her and get to work. When she understood that they could make love in the same way two women would, she showed no hesitation in the matter. In fact, she did things that Trini would certainly have charged extra for. There was nothing shy about her. She told him what she wanted and when she wanted it, talking as though she assumed he had never done this before. In a way, she was right. Though he had been with his share of women, he had never met one as certain of her own needs or as assured in expressing them.
She learned rapidly. At first she was full of questions and observations, wanting to know what he felt when she did this or that, surprised at the taste and feel of things. None of the surprises seemed unpleasant, and by the time he felt ready to move on she had developed an obvious enthusiasm for the project.
Her skepticism returned when he entered her. She admitted it had not been painful, even that it was a pleasant sensation, but observed pointedly that the arrangement seemed unnatural in that it failed to provide for her needs. He tried to assure her that it would work out all right and then realized with dismay that it was not going to because he was already too close and it was too late to stop.