"Gallinger?"
I stepped out and seized her shoulders.
"Braxa."
She screamed again, then began to cry, crowding against me. It was the first time I had ever heard her cry.
"Why?" I asked. "Why?"
But she only clung to me and sobbed.
Finally, "I thought you had killed yourself."
"Maybe I would have," I said. "Why did you leave Tirellian? And me?"
"Didn't M'Cwyie tell you? Didn't you guess?"
"I didn't guess, and M'Cwyie said she didn't know."
"Then she lied. She knows."
"What? What is it she knows?"
She shook all over, then was silent for a long time. I realized suddenly that she was wearing only her flimsy dancer's costume. I pushed her from me, took off my jacket, and put it about her shoulders.
"Great Malann!" I cried. "You'll freeze to death!"
"No," she said, "I won't."
I was transferring the rose-case to my pocket.
"What is that?" she asked.
"A rose," I answered. "You can't make it out much in the dark. I once compared you to one. Remember?"
"Ye-Yes. May I carry it?"
"Sure." I stuck it in the jacket pocket.
"Well? I'm still waiting for an explanation."
"You really do not know?" she asked.
"No!"
"When the Rains came," she said, "apparently only our men were affected, which was enough
Because I—wasn't—affected—apparently —"
"Oh," I said. "Oh."
We stood there, and I thought.
"Well, why did you run? What's wrong with being pregnant on Mars? Tamur was mistaken. Your people can live again."
She laughed, again that wild violin played by a Paginini gone mad. I stopped her before it went too far.
"How?" she finally asked, rubbing her cheek.
"Your people live longer than ours. If our child is normal it will mean our races can intermarry. There must still be other fertile women of your race. Why not?"
"You have read the Book of Locar," she said, "and yet you ask me that? Death was decided, voted upon, and passed, shortly after it appeared in this form. But long before, the followers of Locar knew. They decided it long ago. 'We have done all things,' they said, 'we have seen all things, we have heard and felt all things. The dance was good. Now let it end.' "
"You can't believe that."
"What I believe does not matter," she replied. "M'Cwyie and the Mothers have decided we must die. Their very title is now a mockery, but their decisions will be upheld. There is only one prophecy left, and it is mistaken. We will die."
"No," I said.
"What, then?"
"Come back with me, to Earth."
"No."
"All right, then. Come with me now."
"Where?"
"Back to Tirellian. I'm going to talk to the Mothers."
"You can't! There is a Ceremony tonight!"
I laughed.
"A ceremony for a god who knocks you down, and then kicks you in the teeth?"
"He is still Malann," she answered. "We are still his people."
"You and my father would have gotten along fine," I snarled. "But I am going, and you are coming with me, even if I have to carry you— and I'm bigger than you are."
"But you are not bigger than Ontro."
"Who the hell is Ontro?"
"He will stop you, Gallinger. He is the Fist of Malann."