Free Climate of Change by Piers Anthony Page A

should try to approach the Others, in peace. Maybe they will trade.”
    â€œNo!” Harbinger and Crenelle said together.
    â€œBut if we have no other way—” Haven protested.
    â€œThey kill any of our men they meet,” Crenelle said. “They don’t like anyone else hunting in their lands. That’s why we’re short of game:we can’t cross into their territory, but they can cross into ours and take what they want. So our game is scarce.”
    Her words rang with conviction. But Haven’s life had changed so much recently that she was reckless. “You say they kill men. But not women?”
    â€œNot women, usually.”
    â€œWhat do they do with our women?” Haven feared she knew the answer. But would getting raped by a beast man be any worse than a rape by an ordinary man?
    â€œSometimes they feed them,” Crenelle said reluctantly. “Sometimes they try to adopt them, but their lifestyle is so rough, an ordinary woman can’t survive it. Mostly they just ignore them.”
    â€œAdopt them?” Haven asked, amazed. “Why?”
    â€œI think it’s because they see us as children. So thin and weak. But we can’t live their life. No, it’s best when they ignore us.”
    â€œThey don’t. . . rape?”
    Crenelle laughed. “They don’t find us sexually attractive. Maybe they don’t mistreat children.”
    â€œThen it might be safe for a woman to go to them, to trade.”
    â€œThey wouldn’t trade. They would adopt her or ignore her. Or maybe kill her, if she made a nuisance of herself.”
    â€œI will try it,” Haven said. “I will take Craft’s toys and hope they appeal.”
    Crenelle’s face blanched. “So soon married, and you want to risk your life like this?”
    â€œIf I do nothing, we starve!” Haven flared. “If I succeed, we eat.”
    Crenelle swallowed. Then her jaw firmed. “I’ll go with you.”
    They looked at the men. Both looked uncomfortable, but did not protest. It was a gamble, but things were desperate.
    â€œGive me all your toys,” Haven said to Craft.
    He dug in his pack and came up with four carved links. He did not have many, because it took time and concentration to carve each one.
    â€œYou’re the one who makes those!” Crenelle exclaimed. “Haven gave me one before. I still have it.” She went to her own pack and brought it out. “It’s fascinating. I could get to like you.”
    Craft shrugged, embarrassed by the compliment.
    Haven had to smile. They had just indulged in repeated sex, and now they thought they could like each other? But she had done the same with Harbinger. Sex was an act; liking was a feeling. They were different.
    They made a plan to go to the other camp early the next day. The two women had to go alone, because the Others would know if the men were near, and that would prejudice their case. It was a dangerous mission, they knew, for they would be in the power of the Others. But if they were successful, it meant survival.
    They had been sated of sex, but the prospect of danger restored interest, and they retreated to the house for another bout. This time, mischievously, the two women assumed exactly similar positions, lying on their bellies, spread out, letting the men lie on them and do their business from behind. When the men were done, the women turned over and demanded immediate repeat performances, knowing the men could not. “Then you must do it our way,” they said, and made the men go to work with their tongues, exactly where and how directed. Haven wasn’t sure whether it was the delicate physical stimulation or the marvelous feeling of control, but she derived enormous pleasure.
    In the morning the two women set off for the Others’ camp, guided by the smoke. The day was calm, fortunately. They talked as they went, making no attempt at concealment, so