Chapter 504

504 I Am Stupid

Ziza laughed, inadvertantly (or perhaps deliberately) kicking me with her foot. “Oh, you are so STUPID.” she said, and then resumed laughing.

“Ziza.” Amara (the elder wife) said. “Calm yourself. You will wake the children.”

I had seen the children pretending to be asleep earlier; I don’t think anything less than a pouncing plains-cat was going to wake them now.

Venkatar sipped calmly on a mug of water, perhaps trying to hide his smile.

“No.” said Ziza, once she had herself under control. “How special is this woman Kismet to you?”

I shrugged. “She was a good friend.”

“She was a terrible friend.” Amara said. “Friends don’t treat each other like that.”

I blinked. Just a word? Don’t do that while your eyes are limp in your sockets. Even when you don’t pinch the sagging eyeball, it hurts. “But...”

“No.” Venkatar said. “My wives have the right of that. If either of them struck me in the face...”

.....

“You’d know you earned it.” Amara told him.

He sighed. “I would have to have behaved inhumanly toward them, I admit this truth.” He breathed in, pulling himself to a formal sitting position. “Still, I would very much consider throwing either of you out and disowning you.”

Best

Ziza chuckled, Amara fumed, and Venkatar... I really did miss my eyeballs sometimes.

“But enough about us.” Ziza said, nudging me with her foot. “Why do YOU let a woman treat you like that?”

“Well... don’t you allow your friends exceptions to social norms? From time to time?”

Venkatar coughed, water spewing all over myself and Ziza.

“Husband!” she chided.

“Yes, I am sorry, my wife.” he said. “That was... uncivilized of me.”

“It has been a while since I’ve seen that happen.” Amara said. “It’s usually one of the children.”

“I would contend,” Venkatar said to me, “that there is a difference between verbal and physical harassment.”

“Torture.” Amara said, “He means torture.”

“I meant harassment.” he said, “But yes, torture is not unlike what you subject yourself to.”

Ziza grabbed a candle, held it out. “Show us.” she said. “It is right and proper for visitors to stick their forefinger into a lit candle, and hold it there for a time.”

“I’ve never heard of this.” I said. But, as the others were silent, I obligingly held out my finger.

Ziza swept the candle away before my flesh began to cook. “What is wrong with you?” she asked.

“I suspected as much.” Amara said.

“That...” Venkatar said. “Do your scales protect you from pain?”

“Not the scales.” I said. “I’ve just... I have a pain tolerance that lets me ignore the first eight pain points of any source.”

Ziza was the first to speak after that. “Could you sleep on a bed of nails, as the Fakir do?”

It was my turn to chuckle. “I am told I am a restless sleeper; I’d likely hurt myself if I tried.”

“Still.” Amara said, “That is an abusive threshold. Just the cost to develop that through your System must have been extreme.”

“Pain, bleeding, poison, disease.” I recited. “I learned young that I couldn’t actually avoid damage. But these things, I could grow resistances to. So I did.”

“I see a pattern.” Venkatar said. “You aren’t trying to avoid these unpleasant things, as normal people would. Instead, you seem to be enduring them.”

“Oh, there’s avoidance enough.” Amara said. “But still, you must see how defensive you are. How...” she snapped her fingers.

“Passive.” Ziza said.

“Yes.” Amara agreed. “How passive your approach is.”

“I also agree.” Venkatar said. “It is not just your form that is alien, but your very way of thinking.”

“Why should I think as a human does?” I asked. “I’m a monster.”

“But many monsters still think as people do.” Ziza said. “You... don’t.”

“I think I can demonstrate.” Amara said. “Little monster, how hungry are you?”

“I could eat again, but I have enough nutrition for today and a good chunk of tomorrow.”

She held out a hand, cupping something I couldn’t quite smell.

“Are you hungry enough to eat this ball of yarn?”

“I suppose I could.” I said, holding out my hand.

Like Ziza with the candle, she withdrew it hastily.

“What are you thinking? This is good yarn.”

Venkatar chuckled. “You did offer it to him, wife. We all saw how he eats.”

“Devours.” Amara said.

“He eats like Ima does.” Ziza said, stroking Black. “With abandon, as though the food will be gone if he doesn’t eat it quickly.”

“Ima is a child. This...” (I presume she was pointing at me.) “Is smart enough to understand how atrocious its manners are. But one thing at a time. You have three adults, child, telling you that you are by far too passive.”

I slapped both my knees. “I think I have survived, where many others with better skills and statistics have died.”

“My guest,” Venkatar said, “I think you do not understand what that gesture means in our culture.”

“Oh, please tell him.” Ziza said.

“You have heard me threaten my wives?”

“Vaguely and jokingly.” I said.

“It need not be in our culture.” he said. “As your society honors women, so does the true culture honor men.”

The true culture? I filed that away for later investigation.

“So slapping of the knees...” I said.

“Is a non-verbal reminder to women that they, too, may be struck.”

“And children, when they misbehave.” Amara said.

“How is that in any way different than Kismet striking me?” I asked.

And I saw it; Kismet had claimed to be a princess of the City of Six Towers, before it fell. Before it fell twenty four years ago. Kismet would be what? Sixteen? Seventeen?

Her mother, perhaps, had been from the City of Six Towers when it fell. Kismet might have grown up with their culture, though.

A culture that insists that the dominant gender be... open handed... with the less important.

I got a message about Anthropologist XP about that.

Ziza poked me with her foot. “Someone went elsewhere.”

“Sorry.” I said. “Just trying to answer my own question.”

“It is one of many things you must re-learn if you are to survive here as a hostage.” Venkatar said.

I snorted. “And you think I’m dumb.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Venkatar asked.

“I’ve fought the false axe hero.” I said, “But my boss is the actual axe hero. I mean no disrespect, but the Kamajeen do not strike me as the most formidable of warriors.”

His voice, when he spoke, bore the tone of stone or perhaps ice. “Some of us look forward to challenging that outlook of yours. Be very glad, for example, that you said no such thing in the presence of our khan. Losing your eyes is not the worst thing which could have happened to you.”

Ziza kicked him in the shin. “Husband, you have brought the vizier home with you.”

Venkatar cleared his throat. “I am sorry. The khan enjoys being smiling and generous, and so it falls to those like me, the viziers to be the attack dogs. Severe and stern, and definitely NOT smiling. It is an attitude which has no place inside the home.”

He wagged a finger in my direction. “Do not make me drag you outside my home and let the vizier speak with you.”

“If I have offended, I am truly sorry.” I said. “I have no choice but to speak the truth as I have experienced it.”

But even then, I didn’t believe any four or five of them were the equal of Rakkal.

He cracked his neck. “I suppose I can discount this as more evidence of your stupidity.”

“Oh.” said Ziza, kicking me. “Now you have upset my husband. Do not make an enemy of him, or we cannot be friends. Do not mistake these friendly blows as the strongest kicks I can deliver upon you.”

“And how is THAT any better than anything Kismet has done to me?”

“Because it is Ziza.” said Amara. “Mercurial like the ifrit. But do not make either of us your enemy. In the open sands, our men rule. Here among the tents, this is OUR battlefield, and do not test our willingness to protect our children.”

I made a light bow. “No offense was meant, honored Amara. Uruk mothers feel protective of their children as well.”

.....

The reader has probably already noted that didn’t stop the Uruk from being conquered by Rakkal, but every truth does not need to be spoken.

She nodded, and that seemed to be that. It wasn’t of course, as anyone who knew the Kamajeen well would tell you.

“So, then, let us begin talking about how you might seize your destiny, rather than being at the whim of people who think you their slave.” Venkatar said.

I wished I had my eyes; when you protect your eye sockets underneath a blindfold, raising your eyebrows just doesn’t work right.

“I am willing to listen.” I said, “So long as the decision remains mine.”

“Little monster learns quickly.” Amara said.

Or then, if my scholar is correct. I don’t care; you know what I mean.

Yes, yes. History records that the Uruk joined the union after “demonstrations of Rakkal’s power”. I know what that means, and so should you.