Survivor Read Free Page A

Natahk.
    Alanna said nothing.
    "If you have feeling for the man who fathered your child, you'll tell me. If he belongs to the Missionaries, I can speak to Verrick, perhaps make a trade. He would be safer in my hands. I know better than to kill my prisoners. The Missionaries may not." He paused, trying to read her carefully expressionless face, then went on. "In the southern end of this valley, there is another Garkohn town."
    "A town of farmers," said Alanna. "I know."
    "Mostly farmers, yes, and some hunters to defend against animals and raiders, and to get meat. I'm First among them too. I could make a place there for you and your husband to resume your lives together."
    Alanna smiled grimly. "My husband is not a captive, hunter."
    He looked doubtful. "If you are telling the truth, you may be less fortunate than you think. You may have no other chance for reunion with him."
    "Reunited to live as Garkohn, our loyalties ensured by the meklah?"
    "That is our way, Alanna."
    "And I have said what I thought of that 'way.'"
    "Oh yes. Death would be preferable." He rose to his feet. "Stand up."
    She obeyed slowly, suspiciously, taking real comfort in the fact that she was still within sight of the Missionaries.
    "Walk with me. I have something to show you."
    She stayed where she was. Now she had reason for her fear. "Then bring it to me, Natahk."
    He laid a hand on her shoulder. The companionable gesture had a meaning all its own among the Kohn. It was as much a threat as a raised club. "You will come with me now or later," he said. "It makes no difference."
    She looked around desperately, not knowing what to do. Whatever he had in mind for her would no doubt be worse if she made him wait and abduct her. She could not call on the Missionaries for help. And the other who had an interest in her welfare, her husband, was in no position to help her. He should not have been a captive, probably would not be one long, but he was one now, and that meant he had problems of his own.
    She told herself that Natahk would not dare do her any real harm. Hurting her would lose him the friendship of the Missionaries, and for some reason he had gone to great trouble to maintain that friendship. Surely whatever satisfaction he might get from hurting her was not worth its loss. She followed him, holding that thought.
    Natahk led her by the arm as though he was afraid she might suddenly change her mind and try to go back. When she saw the heavily laden meklah tree that he was leading her toward, she did exactly that. But by then, it was too late.
    She panicked, twisted away from him, ran a few steps. She was quick—easily quicker than most hunters, she knew. But Natahk was not an ordinary hunter. He caught her arm and she kicked at him.' But she was off balance. He dodged easily. He jerked her to him, twisted her arm behind her. His other arm clamped across her throat painfully, cutting off her breath.
    "You're being foolish, Alanna," he said quietly. "What would you have done if you had managed to break away? Where would you go to escape me?"
    She could not answer. She stood bent slightly backward against him by the pressure of his arm across her throat.
    He pushed and guided her the rest of the way toward the tree, then spoke quietly into her ear. "What I intend to show you is a truth about yourself. I cannot believe that a Missionary can become Tehkohn in only two years. Now many Tehkohn would truly prefer death to the meklah. I know because I have watched them starve themselves to death when they reali/e that they cannot escape—that death is the only alternative to becoming Garkohn. But I have never seen Missionaries deliberately kill themselves for any reason." He moved his arm from hei throat and suddenly she could breathe again. As she stood gasping, she felt his hand caress her throat, now obscenely gentle. "Pick a meklah fruit and eat it, Alanna, or I will kill you."
    She started to speak but he raised his hand to touch her mouth.
    "Make no