The Third Ring

Without a word, Tannehill reached to the back of Keren's neck and released the single button that held her gown. He pulled it off her white shoulders, as he had wanted to all day, and down her arms to bare her breasts. He let the soft fabric fall around her waist and lifted the skirt from her hips, up and over her head.

Tannehill kissed Keren's throat, and her breasts, and he knelt before her as if to worship her perfection. She wore but a thong under the gown and Tannehill pulled it over her hips and let it fall around her ankles. She lifted her feet one at a time while he slipped her sandals off, then for the first time in their life together, Keren stood naked before her husband.

"Do you still think I'm pretty?" Keren asked. She knew her own beauty but never tired of being told of it. She plucked at the curls on Tannehill's head, stroked his strong shoulders, and giggled at his answer, which he mumbled into her belly while his big hands caressed her thighs and her smooth buttocks.

Keren squealed her surprise when Tannehill stood, swept her up, and laid her on their bed. She watched and waited while he lifted his tunic, let his breech cloth fall, and stepped out of his sandals. Keren caught her breath when she saw how his hardened shaft strained for her.

They writhed together on the bed in ever-growing excitement. Tannehill gasped in Keren's ear and felt her body yield to him. He joined them together—slowly at first, then with uncontrolled lust. Keren dragged her husband's salty skin through her teeth and clawed at his broad back.

The people of the village said the lights from the forest had never danced as they danced around Tannehill's house that night. Tannehill and Keren immersed themselves in each other and in their pleasures. They emerged when the celebrations were over, when Keren was the envy of every woman in the village and Tannehill was the envy of every man.

Doctor was pleased to watch their marriage blossom. You know that doesn't always happen, but they were a perfect couple. "You both seem to always be happy," she told Keren.

They sat outside by the singing trees and talked while the little lights played about Keren's hair. "Tannehill makes me happy," Keren said. "I've never felt so good as when he compliments my cooking, or tells me how pretty I am, or looks over my shoulder and admires my weaving. Doctor, he even sings for me. I hope I make him feel the same."

"You must," Doctor said with a laugh. "I've never seen him smile so much—and he works so hard. I see new workshops growing in the village, all built with Tannehill's training and tools." Her smile faded when she looked away, "It helps me believe that by the time we're finally gone our work really will be done."

Done? Could the heroes' work ever be done? Perhaps not, but they grew tired of it—so far from home, and with no chance of returning. Keren touched Doctor's hand and asked, "Do we have to think about that? It hangs over us all the time, but I try not to bring it to mind."

"Of course not," Doctor said. "I'm reminded of it today only because Robert, in Far Village, has died. The granaries he built are full, and his students know how to keep them full. He tired. He returned the last of his antidote so that others might use it, and he took his own life."

Keren gasped and brought her fingers to her lips. "I hope that Tannehill's work on the blue metal will keep his interest," She said.

Doctor smiled at Keren and told her, "Keren, Tannehill's love for you will keep his interest." She glanced at the sun then said, "I came to look in on your mother. Would you come with me? You can tell me more about Tannehill's blue metal while we walk."

"I've been helping Tannehill when he works on the blue metal," Keren said, as they walked the gravel path toward the village. "He's only told you and me about it. He keeps it from his students and helpers because he still isn't sure what it's good for, so they all have more important things to do." She smiled to herself and added, "He tells me that I'm his favorite assistant, and I try to distract him only a little."

Keren held her forefinger close to her thumb to show Doctor how little she meant. Doctor laughed and Keren went on, "We're building a new sublimator so that he can refine the metal in larger batches."

Keren glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to hear then said, "The metal is difficult to work, but he made two rings out of it—one for himself and one for me. We've only had them for a few days and so far we can't wear them very long."

Doctor gave Keren a puzzled look, so she explained, "Tannehill's idea is that all living things native to Urta are tied together through the blue metal in a web of signals that we can't detect without it. Wearing the blue metal links us into their web. Tannehill and I can find each other through the web, and that's not all. The little lights? In the signals from the rings they're as innocent as children. We can feel the songs of the singing trees and we're beginning to understand them. There are so many new things that it's all confusing; learning anything is like trying to pick a conversation out in a noisy room.

"There's more we're only beginning to understand: strong voices, conversations, and something frightening beneath it all. I think we'll understand it soon, but now it's too confusing and tiring for us to wear the rings very long."

Keren fell silent as they approached her mother's house then at the front door Kylie met her with a hug and a kiss on her cheek. Doctor knew—as did everyone else who knew Kylie—about her dark envy of her sister, so Doctor was surprised and couldn't relax until Kylie left for the market.

Later that evening Doctor took Tannehill aside where Keren would not hear and said, "I had Keren come with me to see her mother, and Kylie was there. Kylie was affectionate; she seemed happy to see Keren. It seemed...odd."

Tannehill nodded. "Kylie has been friendly lately," he said, "And I think it's an act. I don't trust Kylie, so I still keep Keren from seeing her alone, but my wife wants to believe her sister finally grew up."

It was unfortunate for Keren, but Kylie had not grown up, she had grown careful. Her jealousy long before grew to hatred, but now she knew to keep her hatred quietly behind her smile. She had plans, and she worked patiently day after day to pry Keren away from the village and away from Tannehill's protection.

Keren so wanted to believe her sister had changed that she ignored Tannehill's cautions. They were lying in bed when Keren said, "Kylie asked me to go with her to pick sweet berries. If I can go, then we'll take the transport to Midway Station and walk into the bog from there." She squeezed her supple body against Tannehill and her lips brushed his ear while she spoke.

Tannehill fell under Keren's spell—for him it was certainly a short and painless fall. He pressed his wife down into their bed to taste her mouth, her throat, and her soft breasts. Keren enveloped her husband in her arms, and then her legs. She used her hands and her lips and coaxed him to satisfy himself deep inside her.

Tannehill was spent when he rolled away from Keren, and lost in a euphoric fog where only he and Keren were real. She pursued him and whispered in his ear, "If I can go, then I'll make those berry tarts that you love."

"Don't let your sister get you in trouble," was all Tannehill said. Keren's warm scent and touch kept him from denying her.

Tannehill waited at the transport station that morning with Keren and Kylie. He held Keren's hand and turned the blue ring on her finger. In the time since he fashioned the rings they had grown accustomed to them, and now they wore them so they could feel each other's constant presence. He waited until Kylie boarded the transport then told his wife, "I worry about you with Kylie, but you know that. Be careful."

"Kylie will be fine. You'll see." Keren said then followed her sister. Tannehill felt his wife's presence slowly fade as the transport carried her away. Midway station was far from First Village but—no matter how far she went—when Tannehill sought his wife, he could still find her in Urta's living web.

Advanced classes took up Tannehill's afternoon and his workshop was their laboratory. He concerned himself in the students' problems until they closed up their notes and went home. When his home was quiet again, Tannehill searched Urta's living web for Keren and could not find her. In her place there was a void; she was gone.

He gripped his blue metal ring in both hands and concentrated, but found nothing. He stepped outside where maybe the walls wouldn't shield him and tried again. He climbed to his roof to be above things and tried again. Still, Keren was gone.

Perhaps you can imagine the fear and pain that Tannehill felt. "I made the ring too big," he hoped, "And it slipped off her finger while she picked berries," but he feared far worse.

Tannehill tried to calm himself. He started out walking to the station to meet the transport, but it was of no use. He sprinted there with his heart in his throat and paced on the platform.

The transport glided to its stop in First Village, and Kylie stepped out with a full basket of berries, but without Keren. Tannehill looked up and down the platform and hoped that Keren would step from a different door, but she did not.

Tannehill grasped Kylie's arm in a crushing grip and shouted, "What did you do to Keren? Where is she?"

Kylie wailed, "You're hurting me," and struggled to pull away. She shouted back, "I don't know where your precious wife is! She filled her basket before I did, and she left me in the bog because she wanted to come back to you."

Tannehill glared helplessly at Kylie and released her. His aching heart knew she lied, but there was nothing he could do to her that would bring Keren back. He spun away from her to walk—to walk anywhere—and Kylie followed.

"She probably just fell asleep on the transport and missed her stop." Kylie said. "She'll come home. You'll see." Tannehill pushed her away, but Kylie still followed. "I'll wait with you. I'll make your dinner. If it gets late before Keren comes back then I'll warm your bed, too. I'll make you forget Keren."

That was all Tannehill could take. He turned on Kylie and snapped the back of his fist across her face. Kylie tumbled to the ground and berries scattered across the platform.

The news spread from the other villagers on the platform, and First Village was in an uproar even before Tannehill stood before Keren's Family Council to give them the news. They organized searches and people from all over joined in to find her. Tannehill worked with them day after day to comb the bog at Midway Station without turning up the slightest sign of Keren—not even a berry basket or a scrap of fine fabric.

Eventually they all came to realize that Keren would never be found alive. Tannehill mounted to the roof of his house and sat there alone. He couldn't be inside where there were so many reminders of Keren.

Quiet fell over First Village while Tannehill mourned, and occasionally people would hear his voice over the rooftops as he sang the simple songs that he once sang for Keren. The little spirits hid deep in the forest; the singing trees fell silent, and hot winds whipped dust along the village paths. Villagers huddled together and spoke in whispers. Nothing was right in First Village. Urta herself seemed to tremble, because in his mourning Tannehill discovered the hidden power of the blue metal.

Doctor was waiting when Tannehill climbed down from his roof. In his face, his gestures, and his posture Tannehill was a picture of exhaustion. "Will you rest now?" Doctor asked. "I can give you something to help."

"Not yet," Tannehill answered. "I found an echo of Keren from the Fair End bog. I'm going there."

Doctor grasped Tannehill's arm to keep him from turning away. "You can't go alone," she said. "I have to go with you."

They took the transport like Keren and Kylie had, then passed Midway Station to Fair End, just as Keren and Kylie had. They took two long poles to check the ground where they walked and ventured across the bog.

Tannehill stopped where a white lily lifted its flower, and he fell to his knees before it. Keren's sweet voice came to him through the lily from a far-away place. He listened then sang her song—almost like a childhood rhyme—for Doctor to hear.

I love Tannehill, and he loves me. He'll leave no widow now— that's an irony Spun by a jealous act of treachery. Our little time in marriage was joy to me. What we wove together will always be, For I love Tannehill, and he loves me.

Tannehill plucked the lily's upturned trumpet and gave it to Doctor. Keren's blue ring encircled its stem, as if Keren had slipped it over the flower's bud. He clenched the ring in his hand; he covered his face and wept.

The afternoon faded to evening before they found their way back to Fair End Station. Tannehill spoke quietly on the ride back to First Village about Urta's future and not about its past. At home Doctor watched Tannehill touch Keren's loom, then go to his wedding bed for the first time since Keren left.

In the morning Tannehill rose like a man with a new purpose. He cooked breakfast for them both then took his antidote. It seemed to Doctor like Tannehill was recovering, so she was surprised when he pushed the rest of his supply into her hands.

Doctor refused his gift. "Tannehill, I understand grief," she said. "You can't let it take everything away from you."

Tannehill put the bottle down and motioned Doctor outside. He had her sit by the door then paced in front of her, just as he did at the start of this story.

"With Keren gone there's nothing more that grief can take from me," Tannehill said. "The colonists have a bright future and it will be a future without me, whether it starts tomorrow or in another year."

First one light appeared at his shoulder, then another on his hand. He watched while others gathered around him and told Doctor, "The little spirits ask for Keren, and I can't reply."

He looked to Doctor and said, "Today is my last, but I'm not done. There is one last thing that Keren and I will weave before I go."

The little lights scattered back into the forest when Tannehill turned away. He started for the transport station with Doctor behind him. He carried no tools or food or water—nothing to build with or to sustain himself.

Doctor went with Tannehill to High Station and from there she followed him as he climbed a rocky spine. Tannehill tried at first to turn Doctor back, but he finally gave up. He helped her over the boulders and up the steep climbs. He found rainwater pools and they cupped water in their hands to drink; he gave her sweet flowers to eat. Tannehill finally stopped on a stony crag that overlooked Fair End bog.

Hush and listen to me. An ancient trail leads to that spot; a shrine once stood there in memory of Tannehill and Keren. The shrine was destroyed by believers in Rational Order, but there still is a cairn there, and whenever it's torn down someone builds it back—as I believe they always will.

Tannehill rested until the night was lit only by Urta's rings, then he guided Doctor to a sheltered spot below the crest of the ridge where she could still see to Fair End.

Doctor clutched at Tannehill's arm and asked, "Is this it? There nothing I can say?"

Tannehill smiled by the light of the rings, "Doctor, thank you for everything you've done for me, for Keren, for her mother. Stay safe, and when you look up at night remember us." He pulled Doctor into a hug then turned to climb to the top.

Doctor stood to watch Tannehill on the ridge. He stood with his feet braced apart, tipped his head back and spread his arms wide. His ring of blue metal glowed on his left hand and Keren's ring glowed on his right hand. At first it seemed like nothing else happened, but then a hush fell over a waiting planet. A warm wind swirled about them. It was gentle at first but grew to whip around Tannehill. It forced Doctor to shelter in a cleft.

A bright blue light appeared deep in Fair End bog where Keren lay, and it grew to a brilliant column. Electricity in the air lifted the hair on Doctor's arms but it crackled along Tannehill's arms, then arced from ring to ring between his outstretched hands.

A line grew from the light in the bog. It raced out in both directions, straight across Urta's landscapes until it reached the far horizons. Doctor imagined that it circled all of Urta. The winds grew to a maelstrom and Urta herself quaked. Tannehill was engulfed in lightening so Doctor could see only the outline of his form.

It was at the height of the storm when the long, straight line around Urta suddenly erupted upward into the night sky, and a blast threw Doctor against the rocks. She hid from the blinding light while Urta screamed like a woman giving birth, and then the night fell dark and silent again.

Doctor was cut and bruised when she crawled to the ridge. Tannehill was gone—no blue metal was left, no scraps of charred fabric, no bits of bone or flesh—but in the sky over Urta there shone the third ring, the great blue ring.

*****

I am not a believer in Rational Order, I am but a simple teller of ancient tales, but this I say is true.

Doctor struggled to First Village. She was battered and still hurt when she reached Tannehill's home. She searched for his notes and she destroyed them. Doctor found the machines he built to refine and work the metal and she destroyed them. She gathered every bit and scrap of the blue metal that Tannehill and Keren refined, and she took them away.

The blue metal still waits somewhere deep in the sacred ruins of Planetary Station where Doctor hid it, and in the sky overhead the great monument to Tannehill's love still shines.

This story was inspired by, but only loosely based on, the Pueblo Indian tale, "The Man Who Married the Moon" as told by Charles F. Lummis (1894).