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not reply, I added, "I do not wish to displease you."
    "You are not here to humor me." Reever made a swift, cutting gesture. "You are no longer on Akkabarr. You're free now. Stop acting like you're still a slave to men."
    How easily he said that. So easily it made my blood run hot and my tongue grow reckless.
    "Indeed. I did not wish to leave my Raktar or our people, but to be a mother to the child of my body, you said that I must come with you and be wife. Thus I am here, following your wishes, not my own. I do not know these Jorenians, but they say that I am their sister and must treat them as family. It makes me uncomfortable, and it is not my wish to be a part of their HouseClan, yet I have also tried to do this. Each day more than one of you put a mask on me— the mask of a dead woman—and call me her name, so that you may pretend she yet lives. I am not her, yet I again tolerate it and say nothing. Now I am
    44 S. L. Viehl
    prevented from attending to those who are in need on Vtaga, and you would tell me where I can sleep but that I may not attend to your needs as a woman should until it is something I wish." I gazed up at him. "Tell me, how is any of this free, exactly?"
    "This is your life, Jam. One day, you will remember it—"
    "No." I stepped back, away from his hands. "I will not remember. I did not live her life. I was bom when it was over. I am a woman of the Iisleg, a skela, a healer, and a rebel fighter. I killed a man during the war, to save the life of my Raktar. If not for the child, I would still be with Teulon and Resa. I would have gladly become his second woman to remain at his side." I saw the pain in his eyes, but he needed to face my truth. "I am not Cherijo Torin, Linguist. Your wife is dead. She died when her ship crashed on Akkabarr, and nothing you say or do to me will ever bring her back."
    He stared at me in silence for a very long time. "I will not let you go."
    I knew that. "I am not asking you to."
    "Very well." He turned to face the emptiness beyond the ship. "Go back to work, Wife."
    THREE
    The Senior Healer showed surprise when I returned to duty, but asked no questions and permitted me to finish my shift as scheduled. Perhaps he sensed how uneasy I felt, for he did not force me to complete the disrupted halo-stim treatment, either.
    Before I left, we spent a few moments in his office reviewing charts. The Omorr consulted with me on the various types of prosthetics made for paraplegics that the resident had recommended as suitable for Dapvea Adan, and we agreed that those made with reconstructed technology would be the most resilient and restore the widest range of function.
    "Jorenians heal very quickly," I mentioned as I made the final notes on Dapvea's chart.
    "Is there something bothering you?" Squilyp asked. "You seemed quieter than usual today."
    So he had noticed. "I do not understand some of your ensleg ways," I admitted. "I will use the database later to find out what I do not know."
    His brow furrowed. "What don't you know?"
    "The ways of coupling. I do not know how it is done among your kind." I checked my notes to ensure I had recorded the necessary details. "Reever wishes to make use of me, but I am not doing something right. He will not tell me what it is, and so we do not couple."
    The Senior Healer cleared his throat. "We do not, ah, discuss such matters openly."
    I looked up. "Speaking of coupling is taboo?" The protocol officer had not included it on his list of things I was forbidden to do on the ship.
    "No, but it is .. . a private concern between the partners involved." His hide turned dark pink. "You should ask Reever to explain such things to you."
    "I have already angered him by doing so, and he will not tell me." I gave him a speculative look. "You know how it is done by Terrans, do you not? Is there some ritual involved? Some thing that must be said? You ensleg seem very fond of saying many words before you actually do something."
    "Wait." He turned to his