Ascending - James Alan Gardner [91]
Lajoolie assured me she did like Uclod; she liked him a great deal, and thought she was very lucky. For one thing, Uclod turned out to be in a similar position to Lajoolie herself: his criminal Grandma Yulai had told him he had to agree to the marriage or else. It was a tradition in the Unorr family that older generations ruled the younger in matters of marital choice. If junior Unorrs did not obey their elders when it came to accepting a spouse, the youngsters were deemed too disloyal to be trusted in anything else. They immediately found themselves out on the street…or possibly under the street, if one was being paved nearby.
So it was not Uclod’s fault that Lajoolie was in this dire situation; indeed, she could readily understand if Uclod resented her, regarding her as an undesired stranger foisted upon him when he would have preferred to make his own choice. But Uclod had been the soul of kindness since their recent wedding—he treated Lajoolie as an equal, he included her in everything he did, and he seemed to like having her around.
In return, Lajoolie played the role that had been drilled into her through constant lessons in wifely deportment. Deference. Meekness. Modesty. A type of retiring femininity wherein she pretended to be small and demure, even though she was big and powerful.
This is why, for example, she spoke in false high-pitched tones. All Tye-Tyes had low voices—they were large people with large throats, and vocal cords like the strings of a bass viol. But the marriage brokers had decided a Tye-Tye’s natural voice was apt to remind small men (like Uclod) that the woman was a brawny behemoth who could easily cause grievous bodily harm. Therefore, Lajoolie feigned a falsetto, as well as missish helplessness and delicately modest submission.
“Does Uclod enjoy such displays of quivering frailty?” I asked.
“All men do,” she replied. “That’s what I was taught.”
“Why should you believe the teachings of awful people who threaten your kin? And anyone who says, ‘All men enjoy this,’ is certainly incorrect, for men are changeable ones who do not like anything all the time. In my experience, men get sudden ideas in their heads: that it is weak or unmanly to accept certain types of attention, even if they were happy with identical behavior two days ago. To your great astonishment, what they loved yesterday is the absolute worst thing you can do today…and they look upon you with disgust or pity, as if you are some loathsome insect who turns their stomach.”
Lajoolie stiffened a bit in my arms. “Uclod isn’t like that,” she said.
“Perhaps he is not like that yet,” I told her. “Someday, however, he will be in a terrible mood because of nothing in particular, and he will glare at you and snap, ‘Why do you always talk like that, so goddamned artificial? You could drive a man crazy!’ Or perhaps he will not say anything at all…but he will think it, and every word that comes out of your mouth will make him angrier. You will not understand why he glares so hatefully, and you will ask, ‘What is wrong?’ but he will wince at the sound of your voice. There will be nothing you can say to make him love you again, since it is your very voice he despises; but you speak to him anyway because you are crazed and unhappy, and you think there must be words to make it all better again, if you can only say them in exactly the right way. You know you are only making it worse, but you cannot help yourself…”
All this time I had been holding Lajoolie in the dark. My one arm was wrapped around her back and my other was holding her hand, a position