Grey Eagle - Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

When Sharsa came again, Arion greeted him with a question, seeking to control the conversation. "What is this room usually used for?"

"It's a holding room."

"What for?"

Sharsa hesitated. "For when the carriers arrive," he said finally. "We have several rooms like this. We put two or three humans in each room and hold them here for a little while. I don't like crowding them like that, but I don't usually have enough of the larger rooms for everyone. But it doesn't last long, and coming here isn't necessarily a death sentence. Some of them live perfectly happy lives with us."

"What do you do with them? The ones you don't eat."

"It depends on the individual."

"Tell me about the boy. The one who brought my meals."

He smiled and nodded. "You named him Yavin. He's a damat. A domesticated human, you might say."

"Damat."

"Yes. Actually, you might appreciate the word. You like names and meanings. It comes from your own language, meaning 'tame.' We've taken quite a few of your words to describe damats and humans."

"How do you tame the damats?"

"For a boy like Yavin we start with a baby. My grandfather began the business, my father continued it, and now I have it. It fits in quite nicely with the homology. We raise the babies ourselves, and they grow up trusting us instead of fearing us."

"Why are they afraid of regular humans?"

"Only some of them are, and for various reasons. Usually it's because they've been mistreated by a human. They're dumb, but they aren't stupid."

"Are there a lot of them?"

"Not as many as I'd like. Damats mature very slowly, and building up the stock takes a long time. Each baby needs a great deal of attention, but handled properly, they grow to be very affectionate and very loyal."

"Kind of like pets," he managed, struggling to hide his rising anger.

"Yes," admitted Sharsa, "they are pets. But they are more than pets too... You're angry."

"It's sick," he answered, releasing what he obviously couldn't hide. "You're making animals out of them."

Sharsa hesitated. "Well, yes, which seems to be the reasoning behind the humans who mistreat them. You have always hated us for killing and eating you because you can talk. You say it's wrong to kill and eat someone who can talk.

"The damats can't talk. They are totally innocent. They are human enough to fill our needs, but they are also like the animals, so there should be no conflict." He spoke slowly, gently, his eyes urging acceptance.

"Oh, Sharsa," he said, sickened, but understanding. "They could talk if they'd had a chance to learn. You haven't changed what they are, you've just stolen their identity."

"They have identity," he said, his voice becoming harsh. "And they are happy and well cared for. They are not abused."

"They aren't eaten? They still have souls. If they're human, they still have souls. Not letting them learn to talk is abusing them."

"Why? Because they're not the same as you? It is the humans who mistreat them, not us. You yourself took advantage of Yavin, stealing his stick. And yet he managed to solve the problem all by himself."

Arion was silent, without a defense.

"You eat meat. You have animals you have tamed, and they are eaten. I am not evil, Arion. Every day I feed you meat. Are you evil? We eat what's available, and humans happen to be available. Yes, sometimes damats are eaten, but that doesn't make us evil. You eat your animals too."

"We don't eat sapient beings. We don't tame sapient beings. There's a difference."

"Sapience!" snapped Sharsa with disgust. "I am sapient, but you would kill me if you could."

"In self defense."

"No. You would kill me on sight, just for being a venator. It wouldn't matter if I was attacking you or not."

Arion hesitated, cautious of his anger, and realizing that he was right. "The best defense is a good offense," he said, at a loss for anything better.

"Defense. The need to survive," said Sharsa, more calmly, but pressing. "Eating is something you do to survive too. We don't kill you just for being there. Just for being human."

"What about your sportsmen?" he asked, softly but pointedly, tiring quickly of Sharsa's self-pity. "They kill as many as they can, viciously, and for nothing. They don't eat, they don't take, they just laugh."

Sharsa's shoulders sagged as he sighed, his intensity deflated. "Yes. I'm sorry. They are clearly, unquestionably evil. They are... We hate them too. I can't give you any excuse for them, because they have none.

"May I point out, however, that some of your people laugh when they kill us. That isn't right either. We disapprove of the sportsmen, and we deplore the waste. The Rikshastika fights the Gadamista because they must. The rest of us just want to eat."

"Fine. I can understand you killing Gadamis, I really can. I can even understand you killing people for something to eat. But that doesn't mean I can't protect them. That's my job. It's what I do. But you, Sharsa, you're stealing mothers from fathers. You're taking newborn babies that never had a chance, and crippling their spirits."

Sharsa's ears did a peculiar dance as he struggled for an appropriate reaction. "Your people did the same to the animals they tamed. Do you think their wild ancestors happily went into service? Did they willingly hand over their cubs to be raised by you? Does that make domesticated animals any less happy? Their spirits aren't crippled, they're just different. And they're happy."

"It's not the same," Arion said, frustrated. He didn't want to argue, knowing Sharsa would not stay long that way, but the point was an important one. How could he make this animal understand what it was doing when it had no soul?

"They.. They're meant for more than that. You don't understand what you're doing to them. Souled creatures are different. That's why we don't kill each other. What you're doing... They can't know what they are, what they have. They don't know their own souls. They can't know God."

"How do you know?" Sharsa replied obstinately. "You yourself named my damat Yavin. You told him it meant that God would understand. Was that a lie?"

"...No."

"Then who is more evil? Me, for raising damats - damats that are cared for and happy - or you, who would kill me for it? You say I have no soul, even despise me for it. If that's true, then you are killing the only existence I have. You'll get another turn. I won't. So tell me. Who is more evil?"

Arion saw with a shock that Sharsa was jealous. "No wonder you hate us so much," he whispered.

"Who is more evil, Arion?"

"I can understand, Sharsa, at least in part. But... Maybe I am wrong, but that doesn't make you right. The fact remains, if you would leave us alone, we would leave you alone."

"Then become a vegetarian," he said, rising. "We aren't evil, Arion. And if you ever want to get out of this room, you will learn that."

Arion looked down, stung. He opened his mouth, but found no words. Sharsa left. Though the conversation had been short, he struggled with it for a long time before he was able to sleep.

It was still early when he heard footsteps coming. Heavy, but not Sharsa's. He rose, alarmed. Had Sharsa given up on him? The venator appeared, and with him was a human girl. He paused at the doorway, then sent her in.

Arion flinched as she came through, but nothing happened. He glanced at her - young, but not a child, dark reddish brown hair just past her shoulders - and back at the venator, uncertain what he intended. The venator smiled and nodded towards the girl. "Sharsa," he said, then left.

"Hey there," he said, relaxing and looking at her more fully now. She started, suddenly wary. Not only was she a damat, but she was afraid of him. He sighed. "Not you too..." What are you up to now, Sharsa?

He looked at the doorway. Was it still off? He reached down, picked up his jacket, and tossed it through. Sparks glittered along the zipper as it passed. He gazed at it, lying in the hallway. Would Sharsa give it back to him when he came? Probably. He turned his attention to the girl.

She eyed him cautiously, so he sat down, presenting less of a threat, then smiled warmly. She gazed at him for a long time, unmoving, until he began to feel uncomfortable. Then, slowly, she came towards him.

He watched her advance, but held very still, as with a wild animal. He smiled at her as she sat down next to him, pleased that she was beginning to trust him, but continued to hold still, not wanting to spoil it.

He was disappointed that she couldn't talk, but at least she noticed he was there. He wondered if Sharsa had picked her carefully, because she was very pretty, her pale blue eyes a striking contrast to her dark, wavy hair.

He was startled from his thoughts as her hand slid down to his crotch. He stared at her, his physical reaction surprisingly intense. He rose then, moving away from her. "Sorry," he said, disturbed by how truly sorry he was. She stared back at him, confused, her eyes so much like the eyes of an animal...

He sat down again by the opposite wall. She was clearly puzzled by his response, and unsure what to do. She came to him and tried again, touching, coaxing. He groaned and moved away. He decided angrily that Sharsa had picked her very carefully indeed, though not for her looks. She gave up finally, but became apathetic towards him.

This wasn't what he wanted either. He picked up the mythra and began to play, watching her. She was startled and fascinated, watching intently, but she didn't move. He brought the mythra to her, scooting close, and took her hand, showing her how to pluck the string.

She was delighted, and he gave her the mythra to hold. She enjoyed this immensely for a time, then returned it to him. He sang a few songs for her, then handed it back. And so they passed the time, taking turns. She became bored finally, and he grew tired, so they sat quietly.

They were sitting against opposite walls when Sharsa appeared with two dinnertrays. "Who is more evil, Arion?" he asked, calmly but soberly.

"You are." Sharsa handed him a tray, and the other to the girl. Arion looked at the food and laughed softly. "So I'm a vegetarian now. Can I have my jacket back?"

Sharsa brought it to him and sat down. "It's evil to eat meat."

"I never said it's evil to eat meat, but do you have to eat humans?"

"Yes," he answered with emphasis. "We are not omnivores like you, we are carnivores. We are what we are, and we need to eat meat."

"But why people? Can't you eat regular animals?"

"Some yes, some no, but we're very limited."

"By what? There's all kinds of animals around."

"The simplest way to explain it is to say that we can only eat omnivores. That is simplistic, but it will suffice."

"Omnivores?"

"Right. Such as bears and humans. What you eat affects the nutrition you offer. Most of the animals you eat, we can't. Or we could, if we were starving, but the nutrition is inadequate. You seem to think of us as wanton killers, but we are in fact very seriously concerned. We do not like to waste the life of a creature when it cannot provide what we need.

"Humans we can eat. You are large and you are nutritious. We should starve just because you know how to talk? Just because you have a soul? Your soul doesn't make you untouchable, it makes you first choice."

"First choice! Why?"

"As I said, we are not wanton killers. It is better to kill you than simpler animals. They can't live again. You can."

Arion sagged, defeated by this inverted logic. It actually made its own sort of sense. "So what do you want from me?"

He smiled. "I want you to try to understand. And to help me understand."

"Understand what?"

"Each other. For instance, Kuna here. What do you like about her? What do you not like? And why did you refuse her?"

Arion hesitated, trying to curb his anger. Sharsa didn't understand, but he wanted to. "I like her looks," he said finally. "She is very pretty. I dislike what you did to her. And I refused her because I'm not an animal and I'm not a floor show."

"You want privacy."

"I have no intention of being bred," he said darkly. "My children will never belong to you."

"Oh. I didn't mean to insult you. That's what I mean though. I want to learn. All I was trying to do was give you a chance to get to know a damat, so you can see how nice they are. I thought a touch of pleasure would be good for you. It was meant as a gift." He paused, clearly hoping Arion would relent. "You are very confusing," he said sadly, shaking his head. "If I gave you a female who could not produce, would that suit you?"

Arion smiled his distaste, trying unsuccessfully to appreciate Sharsa s view. Sharsa couldn't help that he was just an animal, but neither could Arion resist contempt. "No. There's more to it than that. They may not know the difference, and you may not, but I do." Sharsa looked puzzled, frustrated, and Arion wondered suddenly if it was an act. For a homologist, he didn't know much. "I need a friend, not a rutting partner."

"I'm trying very hard to be your friend, Arion, but you don't make it very easy."

"I know," he said, sighing again, thinking once more how much he wished he could trust Sharsa. "It isn't easy for me either."

"No, not easy. It will be easier when you learn that I'm not evil."

"I don't think you're evil, Sharsa. I just think you're dangerous."

Sharsa rose and held out his hand to Kuna. She came eagerly, clinging to his hand like a child. "You can see that she trusts me, right? I am no monster to her. Can you at least consider that there is nothing wrong with the damats? They're unique, yes, but they are happy."

He hesitated. If the people on Lenis truly had no souls, that would explain... If... But the attacks at home were all too understandable now. It was a new, growing trend of the Venatorista - where they had in the past taken mostly young males, they were now taking pregnant women as well.

It was well known that the young men were preferred for their meatier bodies, and it was widely assumed that the pregnant women offered a new delicacy, though few had the stomach to say so out loud. Arion found the truth equally unpalatable.

"It doesn't make it right," he whispered, staring at the floor. Kuna released Sharsa's hand and brought the mythra to him, plucking at the strings. "She likes the music."

Sharsa smiled at her. "Like that, do you?" He took it from her then and set it on the floor beside the doorway, leaning the neck against the wall. He picked up the trays then, and took Kuna's hand again.

Arion rose, frustrated. He had tried to be 'good' and Sharsa was leaving early anyway. "Would you prefer lies, Sharsa?" he asked reproachfully. "I'm only trying to be honest."

He sighed. "I know. And I do appreciate it. I just wish you could admit that they re contented." He hesitated at the doorway, then led Kuna through.

As he did so, Arion dashed through as well. The trays clattered to the floor, their noise echoing off the barren walls. A short sprint down the hall and Sharsa had him, his grip firm, but not vicious.

"Oh, Arion. Why do you keep trying? You'll only hurt yourself at the perimeter doors. Even if you could get out of the building, there's nowhere for you to go. The Rikshastika would be on you in a flash."

"Then let me out. If I can't go anywhere, it doesn't matter, right?" He gazed down the hallway and it seemed to stretch on forever...

"You can't go anywhere, but you might hurt someone."

"Please, Sharsa..." he said, adopting a pathetic tone. "Don't put me back in there. I'll be good, okay? Just let me out."

Sharsa sighed. "Look at you, Arion. You can't even stand me touching you."

"I'm sorry. But I'll be good, okay? I just want out. I need out. Please?"

He hesitated. "Would you be willing to promise?"

Promise? No. "Promise what?"

"To be good. To not try anything, to do what you're told. To not hurt anyone."

Arion's heart sank. "I can't," he whispered. "I can't promise, but I'll try. I'll be good."

He shook his head. "No. I need your promise."

Arion thrashed suddenly, crying out in frustration, making a last, desperate attempt to get away, but Sharsa's grip was solid and he half walked, half carried him back to the room.

"I'm sorry, Arion," he said, pulling him in. He held him a moment longer, then released him. Arion growled, spinning around to lunge for him, attacking. Sharsa caught him with his forearm, knocking him into the wall.

He scrambled to his feet, but Sharsa was already out the door, leaving without further comment. He growled again, lunging at the blank, melted walls, tantrumming in his despair. He collapsed at last, exhausted.

When his breath returned, he sat up. Gazing about him he realized with a jolt that the mythra was gone. He got up and began searching for it, knowing it was gone, but turning about, looking beside the commode, anything but accept that it was gone. Sharsa had taken it to punish him. He sat then, numb, his stomach a cold, hard knot.