Onist people, you know."

"No, I didn't. But you probably copied it."

"I doubt that. We were here first, Jak. Our records say so. Probably,
you once captured a man with that name, long ago, liked it, and took it
for your people."

"_You_ were here first!" I sneered. "Maybe that's what your records tell
you, but it isn't so. Look: the Makers endowed us with life, then went
away in to the sky. By mistake they left one idiot-Maker behind, and he
had nothing to do. He made you Onists before he perished, and that is
why you think there is only one Maker."

She seemed highly insulted. "Idiot-Maker? Idiot! There was only one
Maker, ever, but because your minds cannot conceive of all that glory
residing in one figure, you invented a score."

Now it was my turn to be indignant. "A score? Hundreds, you mean;
thousands--more than there are leaves on the trees."

"Well, I won't argue with you. Our war has been arguing that point well
enough." I was sorry she would not argue. She looked very pretty when
she argued, her breasts heaving, her eyes sparkling fire.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Nari. My name is Nari. And don't tell me you had that name first!"

I smiled blandly. "Of course we did. I have an aunt, my mother's sister,
who goes by that name. My brother's wife's cousin, also; but she is very
ugly."

"And am I ugly?" Nari wanted to know. I guess in that sense at least,
women are the same everywhere--Pluralist or Onist, it doesn't matter.

* * * * *

I looked at her. I looked at her so hard that it made her blush, and
then she looked even prettier. But I didn't tell her so.

"You will pass, for an Onist," I admitted. "I guess the Onists might
consider you pretty; the Onist men might stamp their feet and shout if
you go by--but then, they are Onists."

At that, she seemed on the verge of leaving my prison hut, but something
made her change her mind. She stayed all morning and on into the
afternoon. We argued all the time, except at midday, when she went
outside to get our lunch. She stumbled a little and fell half against my
shoulder. I moved toward her to hold her up, and it was the most natural
thing in the world to take her in my arms and kiss her. She must have
thought so, too; she responded beautifully--for an Onist.

After lunch, Nari did not mention the kiss, nor did I. It now seemed the
most natural thing in the world not to talk about it. We argued some
more, Nari de