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"You cannot." Within herself, she altered her reproductive organs further, made herself literally no longer
a woman, but not quite a man just to be certain. "You may be able to push my spirit from my body,"
she said. "I think you can, though I have never felt your power. But my body will give you no satisfaction.
It would take too long for you to learn to repair all the things I have done to it if you can learn. It will
not conceive a child now. It will not live much longer itself without me to keep watch on it."
She could not have missed the anger in his voice when he spoke again. "You know I will collect your
children if I cannot have you."
She turned her back on him, not wanting him to see her fear and pain, not wanting her own eyes to see
him. He was a loathsome thing.
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He came to stand behind her, put his hands on her shoulders. She struck them away violently. "Kill me!"
she hissed. "Kill me now, but never touch me that way again!"
"And your children?" he said unmoved.
"No child of mine would commit the abominations you want," she whispered.
"Now who's lying?" he said. "You know your children don't have your strength. I'll get what I want from
them, and their children will be as much mine as the people here."
She said nothing. He was right, of course. Even her own strength was mere bravado, a façade covering
utter terror. It was only her anger that kept her neck straight. And what good was anger or defiance? He
would consume her very spirit; there would be no next life for her. Then he would use and pervert her
children. She felt near to weeping.
"You'll get over your anger," he said. "Life will be rich and good for you here. You'll be surprised to see
how easily you blend with these people."
"I will not marry your son, Doro! No matter what threats you make, no matter what promises, I will not
marry your son!"
He sighed, tied his cloth around him, and started for the door. "Stay here," he told her. "Put something
on and wait."
"For what!" she demanded bitterly.
"For Isaac," he answered.
And when she turned to face him, mouth open to curse both him and his son, he stepped close to her
and struck her across the face with all his strength.
There was an instant before the blow landed when she could have caught his arm and broken the bones
within it like dry sticks. There was an instant before the blow landed when she could have torn out his
throat.
But she absorbed the blow, moved with it, made no sound. It had been a long time since she had
wanted so powerfully to kill a man.
"I see you know how to be quiet," he said. "I see you're not as willing to die as you thought. Good. My
son asked for a chance to talk to you if you refused to obey. Wait here."
"What can he say to me that you have not said?" she demanded harshly.
Doro paused at the door to give her a look of contempt. His blow had had less power to hurt her than
that look.
When the door closed behind him, she went to the bed and sat down to stare, unseeing, into the fire. By
the time Isaac knocked on the door, her face was wet with tears she did not remember shedding.
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She made him wait until she had wrapped a cloth around herself and dried her face. Then with leaden,
hopeless weariness, she opened the door and let the boy in.
He looked as depleted as she felt. The yellow hair hung limp into his eyes and the eyes themselves were
red. His sun-browned skin looked as pale as Anyanwu had ever seen it. He seemed not only tired, but
sick.
He stood gazing at her, saying nothing, making her want to go to him as though to Okoye, and try to give
him comfort. Instead, she sat down in one of the room's chairs so that he could not sit close to her.
Obligingly, he sat opposite her in the other chair. "Did he threaten you?" he asked softly.
"Of course. That is all he knows how to do."
"And promise you a good life if you obey?"
". . . yes."
"He'll keep his word, you know. Either way."
"I have seen how he keeps his word."
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Finally, Isaac whispered, "Don't make him do it, Anyanwu.
Don't throw away your life!"
"Do you think I want to die?" she said. "My life has been good, and very long. It could be even longer
and better. The world is a much wider place than I thought; there is so much for me to see and know.
But I will not be his dog! Let him commit his abominations with other people!"
"With your children?"
"Do you threaten me too, Isaac?"
"No!" he cried. "You know better, Anyanwu."
She turned her face away from him. If only he would go away. She did not want to say things to hurt
him. He spoke softly:
"When he told me I would marry you, I was surprised and a little afraid. You've been married many
times, and I not even once. I know Okoye is your grandson one of your younger grandsons and he's
at least my age. I didn't see how I could measure up against all your experience. But I wanted to try! You
don't know how I wanted to try."
"Will you be bred, Isaac? Does it mean nothing to you?"
"Don't you know I wanted you long before he decided we should marry?"
"I knew." She glanced at him. "But wrong is wrong!"
"It isn't wrong here. It . . ." He shrugged. "People from outside always have trouble understanding us.
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Not very many things are forbidden here. Most of us don't believe in gods and spirits and devils who
must be pleased or feared. We have Doro, and he's enough. He tells us what to do, and if it isn't what
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