Pathways - Jeri Taylor [179]
She looked up at him through her lashes, and saw him soften perceptibly. He walked toward her, arm extended in an ameliorative gesture. “There, that’s better, now you sound like a proper Ocampan child.”
It made her queasy that he was so easily manipulated. How could this man be an object of respect? He was a narrow-minded fool. She carefully closed her mind so he wouldn’t intercept her thoughts. He moved toward her and stroked her hair, and she forced herself not to wince under his touch.
“Such beautiful hair . . . and your ears—so delicate. You’ve gotten those from your mother, I’m sure. Benaren’s are thick-tipped.”
Kes was confused and uneasy. She didn’t know why he was suddenly assessing her physical qualities. It made her decidedly uncomfortable, but more to the point, it had nothing to do with the reason she’d come here. She eased herself away from him. “You must know so much, Toscat. I can’t imagine all the knowledge you possess. Please tell me . . . are there ancient writings? Is that how you became so wise?”
Toscat’s face was wreathed in a smile. Flattery had oiled his mind so that the information she wanted came slipping out. “There are indeed. Only the Elders are allowed to peruse them. Frankly, I don’t think you’d find them to be particularly interesting, or of any use to us now.”
Kes couldn’t believe what he was saying. Not interesting? The records of their ancestors and the tale of their diaspora underground not interesting? What could he be thinking? She tried to still her hammering heart so that she could continue to question him. “Do they tell of the Caretaker? And why he decided to protect us? And what it was like on the surface? Did they talk about the sun?”
But Toscat had apparently offered up as much as he intended to. He patted her hair again, his fingers lingering to stroke the silken strands. “None of this is of any value to you. Before you know it, you’ll find a mate, and go through the elogium. You’ll have your child and, believe me, there won’t be time to be asking yourself these pointless questions.”
He stepped back as though to signal that the interview was over. “This has been most pleasant. My door is open to you at any time, as it is to all of Ocampa. Please give Martis and Benaren my best wishes.” And he gestured toward the door.
Kes hesitated for a heartbeat, knowing the next seconds would be perhaps the most important in her life so far. She could do as she should—bid good-bye to Toscat and go sit in front of the screens—or she could do the unthinkable, and defy him. It took only seconds.
“Where are they?” she demanded, feet planted squarely, hands on her hips. “They belong to all of us, and I demand to see them.”
Toscat’s face took on a decidedly purplish hue, and his cheeks quivered. He opened his mouth and spoke aloud to her. “I’ll let your parents know about this insolence, you can be sure of that. Marlath!” He yelled out a call for his aide, who instantly opened the door, amazement etched on his face. “Escort the young woman to her home and tell her parents to expect a visit from me.”
Marlath nodded, clearly caught unawares by these events, and held the door open for Kes. She turned directly to Toscat and, quite calmly, said to him, “I got you to speak out loud, Toscat. That’s a step in the right direction. Maybe there’s hope for your lazy mind yet.”
And she swept past him, head erect, with as much dignity as she could muster.
When she arrived home, she immediately took off her drab outfit, loosened her hair, and bathed in a tub of warm, fragrant water. It was as though she needed to wash away any reminder of her encounter with Toscat. She soaked for a long time, washing every part of her and rinsing her hair over and over. But when she dried herself and donned fresh clothing, she could still feel the touch of Toscat’s hand on her hair.
She found a sharp blade among her father’s possessions, and began to sever chunks of her long curls, cutting them close to the scalp in ragged