by Dawn Cook
Alissa sat at Marga’s invitation, and Lodesh settled between them. “No need,” Alissa said. “I was just tagging along.” She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Marga’s darkened boots. “I’d like to extend my condolences,” she said. “It’s hard when Mistress Death comes suddenly.”
Marga turned to rummaging in a basket, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “Father always said the mirth trees are a better judge of character than most men. That they chose to flower for his wake is a great comfort.” She set a bowl holding cheese molded into the shape of flowers onto the blanket, and Alissa’s eyes widened. The bowl was made of glass! And Marga had it outside holding food as if it was common.
“I’ll never understand why Father, may he be feasting at the Navigator’s table, objected to you tending the grove, Lodesh,” Marga added as she gestured for Alissa to help herself. Alissa was half-starved, not having eaten since morning, and she politely nibbled a cheese flower, reaching for a tiny roll in the shape of a fish to go with it.
Lodesh chuckled. “Father was well-known for his leniency with his children, and you should count yourself lucky for it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Marga halted her motion to pour out a wineskin into a glass cup. Only a drop fell, looking like a red jewel.
Lodesh glanced at the musicians and sighed dramatically.
“Sarken is a fine husband!” she said, shoving Lodesh willingly over onto the moss.
“I wouldn’t know,” he said, flat on his back and staring up at the unfallen mirth flowers. “But I do know he’s young, ragged looking . . .”
“He’s not ragged.” Marga glared at her brother. “He’s just—fashion deprived.”
“Fashion deprived!” Lodesh sat up. “The man couldn’t pick a matching shirt and pants from the same vat of dye.”
“Stop it!” Marga cried, not really upset. “He makes nice things for me and fills my head with his aspirations.”
Alissa hid a smile behind a second roll as Lodesh frowned. “Huh,” he grunted. “Aspirations my horse’s—”
“Lodesh!” Marga cried.
“—hoof,” he finished, grinning. “He just wants to take you away from the rest of us.”
Marga’s gaze went to the dance boards as she handed Alissa a cup. “Sarken is a wonderful artisan, Alissa,” she said, ignoring Lodesh’s repeated jabs at her foot.
Alissa sipped her drink, marveling more at the container than this year’s unfermented wine in it. “Is he here?” she asked, hoping he would look like Strell, then praying he wouldn’t.
Marga’s eyes glowed. “He’s on the music risers.” Shifting eagerly onto her knees, Marga searched the scattered rows of heads. “He crafts pottery for our keep, but his first love is his music. There he is,” she said, waving. “He’s the one with the pipe.”
Heart in her throat, Alissa followed Marga’s gaze, expecting to see Strell. Much to her relief, Sarken was a tall man with a narrow, bearded face and extremely straight, jet-black hair cut longer than hers. There was no Strell about him.
Under Marga’s gaze, Sarken sent a trill of sound through his pipe, a phrase of music to act as his distant greeting. It cut over the boisterous noise of “Taykell’s Adventure,” and Alissa caught her breath with a stab of anguish. Strell had inherited his talent.
“He has two professions,” Marga said smugly. “Lodesh is jealous.”
Lodesh choked on his drink. “Of him?” he sputtered. “I just don’t want you to follow him back to the coast.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not?” Radiating relief, Lodesh set his drink aside and took her hands.
“No.” Marga smiled. “He wants to go to the plains now.”
“The what!”
“Hush,” she admonished. “I think they’re ready to play.”
Marga didn’t see the look of despair that flooded Lodesh, but Alissa did. He hid it behind his efforts to arrange his cushion, but the shadow of it remained, even as he smiled at Alissa.
The crowd cheered as the song ended. In twos and threes the people cleared the dancing circle. After a series of false starts that set the professional musicians’ eyes rolling, they finally settled upon a fast-paced dance tune. Several couples returned to the boards, their feet stomping. Alissa’s pulse quickened, and she felt Beast grow restless. The music had a similar effect on Marga. The young woman’s hands began to softly clap, and her feet began to shift.
Lodesh winked at Alissa. “Watch,” he mouthed silently as he tightened his laces. Done, he leaned back against the moss and closed his eyes. Only his fingers kept time, thumping against his lower chest.
“Lodesh?” Marga murmured. “Let’s dance.”
“Hum?” His fingers stilled.
“Come on,” she cajoled, pulling him into a sitting position. “Just one tune’s worth.”
“Now?” Lodesh complained. “You know I don’t dance until the moon rises over the trees. And besides, I want to dance with Alissa. If she chooses to,” he added quickly. Blinking in sudden consternation, he searched her face. “You do know how to dance, don’t you?”
“Course I do,” Alissa offered hesitantly, still embarrassed for having sung before a crowd.
“Come on. . . .” Marga pleaded. “As hosts, we have to put in an appearance. Alissa won’t mind.” She turned to Alissa, and Alissa waved them away. “See!” Marga cried, and she pulled him unresisting to his feet.
As they moved to the platform, Marga’s dress shifted to show the dark green underskirt hidden behind the panels of her overskirt. The color peeping behind the slits matched Lodesh’s outfit perfectly. Lodesh turned, and over his shoulder he sent a silent, “Thank you, Alissa.”
They hesitated at the edge, waiting for a spot, then plunged in. Lodesh, Alissa wasn’t surprised to find, was a good dancer. Very, very good. Marga was no beginner herself, and could almost keep up with him. Flinging skirts, kicking ankles, and quick whirls caused explosions of color as underskirts were suddenly revealed and hidden. It was eye-riveting.
Surrounded by his friends among the music of drums and pipes, Lodesh smiled, clearly enjoying the challenge of the dance. He looked at peace with himself. Alissa had never seen that before, and it pulled a pang from her. Knowing his miserable future of guilt and shame made his happiness now all the more precious. She would fix him and Ese’Nawoer into her memory as they were tonight: vibrant, beautiful, and innocent.
26
There was a rustle of fabric, and Alissa turned with a welcoming smile, expecting to see Connen-Neute. A gaunt woman in a simple blue dress had sat upon the moss beside Marga’s blanket. Alissa’s smile shifted to a noncommittal greeting, which the woman answered with her own. Alissa turned back to the dancers, but Lodesh and Marga were lost in that single instant.
“They dance well together, don’t you think?”
It was low and tired, and Alissa looked at the thin woman beside her. “Yes. They must practice a lot.” She fidgeted, feeling her stomach give a twinge. That juice, she decided, must have been somewhat fermented after all.
The woman made a small, sour shrug. “They used to. Lately their attentions have been diverted to more mundane paths.”
She sounded bitter, and Alissa glanced up uneasily.
“Look at me!” The woman laughed a shade too gaily. “I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Sati,” and she extended her hand, leaning across the small distance between them.
“Alissa.” As her hand brushed the woman’s, nausea swept through her. Alissa snatched her hand back and buried it under her arm. She gulped wildly. Beast jerked her attention from the music, and Alissa had to struggle to keep her feral consciousness from running them away.
Sati watched Alissa’s reaction with raised eyebrows. “You aren’t a Keeper,” the woman accused. “You’re a Master.” She paused, her fingers going to her mouth. “Hounds,” she cursed quietly. “No wonder I couldn’t see to answer his question clearly.” Her eyes went wide. “Lodesh doesn’t know, does he. I’ve go
t to warn him!”
Eyes wild, Alissa reached out, drawing back as if stung at her feeling of illness. Warn him? About what? But Sati was on her feet to find Lodesh. Steeling herself, Alissa stood and grasped Sati’s sleeve, pulling her beyond the torchlight, and into the fragrant shadows. Nausea rose high, and Alissa paced a tight, frantic circle before the woman, trying not to retch. Something was wrong with Sati. With her tracings. “You,” Alissa stammered, only now realizing the significance of her blue dress. “You’re a shaduf.”
“Shaduf Sati, as you will it,” she said, making a short, sarcastic bob of her head. “And now that we’ve been properly introduced, I’ll be warning Lodesh before he goes and proposes.” She turned, anger clear in her sharp, quick strides.
Alissa took a deep breath and stepped into her path. “Sati, wait,” she demanded. The sense of wrongness crashed over her anew. Clamping down upon both Beast and her upwelling nausea, Alissa stared at her. “Please,” she gasped, an acidic taste in her throat. “Let me explain. No one is supposed to know I’m a Master.” Then she hesitated. Her discomfort almost seemed to vanish as Sati’s last words penetrated. “Propose?” Alissa said.
Taking a haughty stance, Sati all but sneered at Alissa’s confusion. “You’re astonishingly good. Your shift to human is almost perfect.” She wiggled her fingers. “You’re still off on the eyes, but gray is closer than gold. Redal-Stan teach you that?”
“Propose?” Alissa stammered.
“Yes, propose,” she snapped. “Are you stupid or just deaf?”
“I-I,” Alissa stammered, and then her eyes narrowed at the insult. “How do you know he’s going to propose?” she demanded. “Shadufs can’t see into a Master’s future.”
“See it?” she all but barked. “I don’t need to see it. I’ve lived it! First,” she gestured roughly, tossing her head so her hair began to spill from its white ribbon, “he will wait until the moon is all but crested, then pull you to the shadows on some excuse or other.”
“Sati, I . . .”
“Then he will whisper how his life will mean nothing if you aren’t there with him.”
“Sati, please,” Alissa pleaded, but then stopped. Sati’s face had softened, and her shoulders had drooped. She stood, not tight and angry but lost in memory.
“And,” Sati whispered, “when the moon rises beyond the trees, pooling about your feet, the mirth flowers will begin to slip from the trees in a gentle shadow of scent.”
Sati was crying, the tears slipping unnoticed down her face, its weary lines gentled with a tragic sorrow. She was beautiful in her misery, and Alissa’s throat tightened with shared loss.
“Then he will take your trembling hands, forming a bowl to catch the sweet rain of flowers to accept the one he gives as his token of his love, a symbol of his offer of marriage.”
The torchlight outlined Sati in a shimmer. Alissa stood, unable to move. Something had ruined this woman, taking her life, her hope, leaving an empty shell animated by nothing. There was no grace but in memories for her. “Sati,” Alissa whispered. “What happened?”
Awareness flooded back. Dropping her head, she tucked her hair back under its tie and hunched into herself. The harsh angles reappeared. “I thought everyone knew,” she said. Sati moved farther into the shadow to stare out into the moonlit field. “I’m a shaduf,” she said. “That’s all. My abilities broke into existence all at once on an evening much like this one.”
She turned to Alissa with her haunted eyes. “A shaduf’s abilities generally trickle into being, first as night terrors, then daymares. Plenty of time to realize a curse has been set upon you. Time to prepare for the monstrosity your existence will become. But no,” she drawled sarcastically. “Not me. My abilities crashed full upon me in a heartbeat.”
“But what happened?” Alissa persisted.
“Remember?” Beast interrupted. “The first future a shaduf lives is his or her own death. Lodesh’s proclamation of love triggered her abilities, tainting her love for him with the stench of her death.”
“By the will of the Navigator,” Alissa whispered in horror, feeling herself go cold.
Sati spun, her frown bitter. “The Navigator had nothing to do with it. I found myself dying in childbirth. Lodesh’s child. It took two days for us to manage, my daughter and I. It ended with my daughter beside me, preceding me into death just barely. My daughter lived long enough for me to grow to love her.” Sati turned away. “Then I died as well.”
Alissa could do nothing, say nothing, staring at her in shock.
“Lodesh was very brave,” Sati said lightly, “but to see his eyes lying to me when he said I would be all right was worse than the physical pain. I don’t recall the pain anymore.” She sat down at the base of a tree as if unable to stand. “But his eyes,” she said distantly. “Those I see. Those I remember.”
The tears ran unchecked from Alissa. Sati’s eyes were frighteningly dry. “I think I went mad when the Seeing was over and I found myself in Lodesh’s arms, under the moon with the scent of the mirth trees thick in the air. Lodesh didn’t know what had happened. He only knew I was suddenly terrified of him. I’ve never told him of his part in my death.”
“I’m—I’m sorry,” Alissa said, knowing it was wholly inadequate.
Sati’s gaze was empty. “Could you live with someone knowing their death?”
Alissa sat down beside her, unable to simply walk away. “So you won’t die in childbirth,” she offered, then immediately regretted it, but Sati smiled harshly.
“No. Now I die of a bloody cough, or a sharp pain in my chest, or once even a bad case of the stomach pains. It depends,” she lectured, “upon what I habitually do, periodically shifting as I shun certain foods or tasks, or even places. Everyone else’s death stays the same, but once you know, you can’t help but shift it, even when you try not to.”
Alissa was silent, imagining the horror of knowing.
“I wish I had more courage,” Sati whispered.
Feeling eyes upon her, Alissa turned to see that Connen-Neute had pulled himself from the musicians and was watching her. Not knowing what he wanted, she shook her head. He turned away as a whistle’s solo attracted his attention.
Sati shook herself. “Look at me,” she said ruefully. “I only came to spill a glass of wine on you. If I had known I was going to like you, I would have burned myself first.”
“Beg your pardon?” Alissa blurted.
Shrugging her too-thin shoulders, Sati looked at her feet. “I have a small box. I made Lodesh buy it for me. It’s warded shut. When I try to open it, I suffer a mild burn.” Misunderstanding Alissa’s horrified look, she quickly added, “It’s warded for me alone. It’s perfectly safe for anyone else. It hurts like, well, I’m sure you know, but it’s worth it.”
“But why?” Alissa stammered, feeling her naïveté was serving her badly.
Sati seemed to understand. “Burned tracings don’t resonate. You wouldn’t have to fight to keep from vomiting. A Keeper wouldn’t notice me at all, and,” she added, sounding almost guilty, “until they heal, I’m unable to See. “Once,” she said dreamily, “I burned myself so badly I had nearly three days.” She sighed. “It was spring. I could almost forget. Lodesh had promised to visit, and I couldn’t bear to see him cringe. He tries to hide it, but, well . . .”
Alissa closed her eyes. Something was terribly wrong when the only way to feel joy required an equal payment of pain. “Burn her,” Beast said.
“Burn her?” Alissa whispered.
Sati’s head jerked up. “You can? Alone? They said it was too late. Did they lie to me?”
“I—Sati. Wait.” Alissa took a step back. “I never meant—”
“Burn her tracings to permanent ash,” Beast demanded. “Give her something back. A crumb to her is worth more than a feast to any other.”
“But the pain,” Alissa pleaded as Sati stepped forward, her pinched features tightening in hope. “I don’t know if I can channel that.”
“Alissa! Look at me!” Sati pleaded, forcing her hands to her side as she started to reach out. “I don’t care about the pain.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Alissa whispered, her excuse sounding shallow even to her.
Spots of color showed on Sati’s cheeks. “That is a lie!” she snapped. “Your kind has burned lesser shadufs before they mature. They refuse to grant me peace because I’m the best they have. Look at me!” she cried. “I can’t allow myself to care about anyone or anything! My love for Lodesh has mixed with my death so freely that I can’t separate the two anymore. I know I could remember how if I could only stop Seeing!” She took a ragged breath. “Please, Alissa. How can I smile at a child, when I know someday he will beat his wife to death?”
Terribly frightened, Alissa searched Sati’s face. She took a deep breath. “Not here. I’ll come to you tomorrow.”
Sati went from hopeful to frantic. “No! Now! We can go into the field. Wherever you want, but it must be now!” Seeing Alissa’s alarm, Sati lowered her voice. “They watch you so close, the Masters, I mean,” she whispered urgently. “Connen-Neute would stop us now but for the music distracting him. Tomorrow Redal-Stan will forbid you.”
“No one,” Alissa said hotly, “forbids me from anything.”
Sati laughed sourly. “He will threaten you, and the result would be the same.”
Alissa tensed, knowing Sati was right. “Hounds. Do you realize what you’re asking?”
Sati stared at her with her hollow, empty eyes. “Yes.”
Alissa was silent. She looked from Sati to the content, happy people that Sati could watch but never join. “Come on.” Alissa extended her hand, snatching it back as their fingers touched, then firmly grabbed it and pulled Sati deeper into the shadow of a mirth tree. Its huge girth was between them and the light, but she still could hear the song and laughter.
