Milne could smell Tethina before she even strode through the back door of the house and rushed into the main room. Her unique, somehow metallic, smell, like a copper penny held too long in a sweaty palm, swept over her. Teth followed, smeared black with dirt, except where it ran maroon with blood down her knees, cheek, and along one arm. Fine, auburn hair that barely reached her long neck was plastered across her forehead. Sweat ran from her hair down her narrow nose to her thin pink lips then dripped from her sharp chin. Her best silk shirt was a muddy gray tatters, soaked with sweat and torn across the front so that the cloth she had wrapped around her small breast showed through. The too-short grey pants she wore were torn at the knees and caked with dirt. A stream of dried blood marked her thin ankles and stained the top of her soft brown shoes. If not for the beaming smile and sparkling green eyes, Milne would have thought she had been attacked.
“I did it, Milne,” Teth proclaimed with a whoop. “I beat them, beat them all. Five first place coins and it should have been seven.” Her heavily tanned, sinewy arms rose in triumph showing the coins, sparkling silver in the fading light. She walked with a slight limp, but each stride was from the toes, quick and easy like a great cat on the prowl. “The boys are steaming mad. I’m heading into the forest. I’ll let them cool down for a few days before I show my face again. Is my pack still up in my room?” Teth swept past with barely a glance at her smiling aunt. Milne knew that she should not encourage her, but she couldn’t help it. Teth was everything she had ever wanted to be at that age. And that was just the problem.
As she hit the stairs, Teth saw the man sitting in the other chair by the fire. She pulled up short. “What’s he doing here?” she asked without acknowledging the counselor. “I didn’t break any laws by competing. Even the governor admitted that there were no rules forbidding women, and if he starts in about the matronly side of the Order, I won’t even bother getting my things.”
“I know we’ve had our differences, Tethina,” Counselor Torpy said calmly, “but I’m not here because of anything you’ve done. Your aunt asked me to come. She has something to tell you. She . . .”
“That’s enough, Counselor,” Milne cut in. She had little more love for Counselor Torpy than Teth. She eyed him. He was only a few years older than her, but she thought of him as old. A brown robe covered his slight figure tied with a finely woven belt that he had made himself. The neck remained open far enough to show the small rising sun pendant that unnecessarily denoted his position in the village. His delicate hands were folded in his lap, revealing only a few of the liver spots that marked them. His head was completely bald; in fact, he had not a hair on his body: no eyebrows, whiskers, arm or chest hair, no eyelashes for the Order’s sake. His nose and chin were both long and sharp so that he looked most like a small, plucked bird.
Teth took a cautious step from the stairs and chewed her lip. Her arms formed a barrier across her chest. Her legs spread, knees slightly bent as if preparing to wrestle a bear. “What is it, Milne?” she asked, honest concern entered her voice. “What could be so important that you’d invite him here?”
Milne took a deep breath and looked toward the counselor. He smiled and nodded, extended a hand and placed it on hers in reassurance. That gesture increased Teth’s guard tenfold. Her eyes bounced between them. Her mouth pursed, her breath quickened noticeably. “I have two things to tell you,” Milne finally said, “but I’m afraid if I tell you one of them you won’t stay to hear the other, so I’m not sure where to start.”
“Just tell me, Milne. Is it Ipid? Has something happened to him?”
Milne coughed, a deep, racking spasm. She caught it with a red handkerchief so that no one would see the blood flecked across it. “Ipid is fine,” she rasped when the spell had passed, “but he sent a letter.”
Teth’s look of concern over the cough turned to wariness over the letter. Milne longed to be that young again, to have the luxury of being obsessed with herself. She held Ipid’s letter out to Teth. She already knew what it would say, knew the reaction it was likely to solicit. Teth approached and took it with a caution typically reserved for vipers. She slowly opened it, unfolded the paper, took a deep breath, and began reading. Her first reaction was to snort at Ipid’s overly sentimental greeting. Then she grew quiet. Milne watched her fingers curl around the paper, crumpling its edges. Her eyes narrowed, her nostrils flared, her teeth clenched. The explosion was coming.
And Teth did not disappoint. In a flash of motion, she transformed the letter to scraps. “I won’t!” she screamed. “He can’t make me. And to Dasen, of all people, that sniveling bookworm. He wouldn’t last one day in the forest, probably doesn’t even remember what a tree is. He’s no better than some pathetic counselor.” She looked directly at Counselor Torpy as she said the last, clearly meant the insult for him as well. “I won’t be joined, and I, by the Order, won’t live in a city. He can take his money and go to the Maelstrom.”
“Teth, please,” Milne tried to interrupt.
“No, I won’t listen, Milne. He can’t do this. I won’t let him.”
“He certainly can,” Counselor Torpy interrupted. “He controls your paternal custody. It is within his rights under the Order to find your match.”
“I don’t give an Order’s damn what his rights are! I won’t be joined to some sniveling boy, who never makes it out of his library. I won’t spend my life trapped in a stinking city, having tea with a bunch of worthless stuffed dresses, acting like some vapid, pointless piece of furniture. By the Order, I won’t be joined at all until I’m good and ready. And when I am, it will be to someone who has earned the right.” She advanced on the counselor, and he retreated into his chair as if seeking to hide in it. Teth’s temper and unpredictability were renowned. Counselor Torpy had seen and handed out punishment for the results many times.
“I’m leaving,” Teth continued. “I can’t stay here. Send him a letter telling him no. Tell him if he shows up here with his brat son, they’ll never find me. None of you will ever see me again.” She turned and ran toward the stairs. Milne could tell by her shaking hands that she was barely restraining her emotions. So she already knew, Milne thought. Deep down, she knew this was coming. That, at least, will make my task easier.
“I’m dying!” Milne yelled after her.
Teth stopped. Her hand rested on the polished banister. A long time seemed to pass. Silence gripped the room, even the small fire seemed not to crackle. Milne watched as the powerful girl deflated: her broad shoulders slumped, her axe handle spine softened, her taught muscles sagged. Finally, she took a deep breath. “What are you talking about, Milne?” she asked, but the question lacked conviction. “You can’t know that. You have that cough, but no one dies of a cough.”
“You’ve known it for a long time, Teth,” Milne stated. “I’ve taught you everything I know as a healer. You know that this is not a normal cough. Why else would you keep bringing me bristleweed roots? Do you think I don’t know how hard they are to find and dig?”
“I . . . I just,” Teth tried to speak through a sob but failed. She did not turn, but her hands rose to her eyes, and her breaths became ragged. Her whole body shook like she had a palsy. Her knees sagged and she collapsed into a heap on the bottom step of the stairs. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she finally managed to pant. “The cough just kept getting worse, and that’s the best thing. I just wanted you to get better.”
“But I’m not getting better, Teth.” Milne rose from her chair, sat a step above Teth, and placed a comforting hand on her damp, mud caked back. “I’m dying. And it is time that we acknowledged it. That and a great many other convenient lies we have been keeping.” Milne released a deep sigh and spent a moment just rubbing Teth’s back, waiting for her tears to pass. She wouldn’t hear anything now, so there was no point in talking.
When Teth’s sobs had faded to snuffles, Milne handed her a cl
ean rag and started again. “I think it is time for us to be honest with ourselves. This whole life of ours has been a lie, but I can only blame myself. I should have never let it go this far, but after the accident . . . . Well, after the accident, I just couldn’t say no to you.” Her tears wiped away, Teth moved her head to Milne’s lap, hugged her knees like a child. Milne reflexively stroked her sweat-matted hair. She couldn’t remember a time when Teth was this compliant, and she took advantage, had the conversation that had been needed for a long time. “You probably remember, after the accident, you wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t play, didn’t even cry. You just sat, staring at the ruins of your father’s shop. If I tried to pull you away, you screamed and clawed at me like a cat. I could barely get you to eat. I didn’t know what to do. Finally, I convinced you to help me gather herbs in the forest. And a transformation occurred. It was as if the trees somehow pulled the poison out of you.” Milne looked down at the head on her lap, saw Teth smiling at the memory. “It was the only time you were happy, the only time you would talk to me, so I made excuses to spend time there, day-after-day.
“Then came the bow, the hunting, and it made you so happy, so confident that I didn’t want to stop it even though I knew I should have. When Counselor Torpy found out, he wanted to forbid you from leaving the village, but I begged him, pleaded, told him you needed the forest to heal. And eventually, he conceded.” Teth snuffed, would probably never accept that the counselor, who had opposed her so many times, ever had her best interests in mind. Milne looked at Jael Torpy. He did not meet her eyes, just picked at his robe. She had been so cruel to him over the years, she realized, but he had been right all along. Perhaps the cure had been worse than the disease.
“I knew where it would lead,” Milne continued, “but I couldn’t bring myself to take that away from you.” She paused, took a breath. “And if we are being honest, I saw myself in you, used you to live the life I never had the courage to live. But the truth eventually comes calling on every lie, and make no mistake, this life you’ve been leading has been a lie. Counselor Torpy would say that you are out of alignment with the Order, and that may be, but more importantly, there is simply no place for you as you are.”
Teth went rigid. She tried to raise her head, but Milne grasped her neck, held it in her lap. “Wait. Let me finish. This needs to be said, and you need to listen. I know that is a terrible thing for me to say. It is cruel and unfair, but it is the truth. In the world outside of our lie, women have a place, and it is not hunting, running races, fighting. It is in the home, raising children, making meals, supporting husbands. That is the path the Order has set, and the one we both knew you would eventually have to take.” Teth tried to rise again, but Milne would not let her up. She was going to hear this if Milne had to tie her. “You’ve had far more opportunities than most, and I am so happy that you competed in the games, that you won. They can never take that away from you. You will always know that you are better than any boy in this district, but that has to be the end. It is time to accept the Order, to stop fighting it and become what you must become.”
Having said her peace, Milne let Teth go. She shot up like a coiled spring, stepped back, rubbing her neck and looking like she’d been betrayed. But for once, she was at a loss for words. Milne sat on the step and let her think, watched the emotions battle for control of her face as she spun through each, looking for the one that fit best. “This . . . this is not how it was supposed to happen,” she finally admitted. “I . . . I was . . . I . . .”
“You were what?” Milne asked. Teth was on the ropes. It killed her, but Milne had to finish her while she had the chance. “You thought this could go on forever? That I would never get old? That you would never grow up? Where did you think it would end, Teth? That some handsome stranger would come striding out of the forest and say, ‘I’ve always wanted a wife who can out hunt me?’ This is exactly how it has to end. You have no friends here, no prospects, you just admitted that a mob may be hunting you as we speak. If Ipid weren’t protecting you . . . . You have no future here, and there is nothing else waiting out there.”
Teth’s face collapsed. Her already red eyes brimmed with tears. Her hand rose to her mouth. “But why now? Why Dasen? There has to be someone better, has to be another way.”
“It has to be now, because I am dying,” Milne stated plainly. Teth wailed like a knife had just entered her gut. “It has to be Dasen because there is no one better. Everyone in this village knew from the moment of his birth that your match was part of the Order’s plan. I regret that you were ever taken away from each other. I begged Ipid to leave Dasen here with me, and he begged Counselor Torpy to let you live with him, but neither of them could be swayed.
“You have read Ipid’s letters, and I’ve watched you read them. I know exactly when you read about Dasen. I see how you light up. I know that you still love him, have never lost that childhood affection. He has taken a different path from yours, but he is, and always was, a kind and thoughtful boy. Further, Ipid has promised you every chance: time to adjust to your new life, a place in one of the world’s most prestigious universities, a friend to help you along the way. And don’t be mistaken, that is what Dasen is, your friend, the only one you have. When you see him, you will realize that he never stopped being that. Every woman in this world will tell you that is the best you can ever hope for.
“And the alternative is far worse. I never told you, but prior to your father’s death, Ipid made him a full partner in Ronigan & Galbridge. He has maintained that division all this time. Your name on the corporation is not symbolic; half of it belongs to you.”
“I’m a woman,” Teth screamed. “I can’t own property. It’s as well the Church owned it as me.”
“But that property still goes with you. Whoever joins you will control it. Do you understand, Teth? You are the possibly the most valuable match in the Unified Kingdoms.”
“I don’t want money. Ipid can have it if that’s all he wants.”
“Not Ipid, Tethina. Your uncle.” Milne gave that a moment to sink in. “When I die, your custody will shift to him. And he will certainly put an end to your current life. He has told me that you should be chained to the hearth until you learn your place. He will break you, Teth. And then he will sell you like a lot of lumber to the highest bidder. Instead of joining Dasen, you’ll be joined to someone who wants half of Ronigan & Galbridge, probably an old man or maybe his son, but in either case, they won’t care about you, won’t give a damn what happens to you once they have your property. That is why I wrote to Ipid, why I asked him to arrange this, why I told him that the joining ceremony had to be now.”
Teth stared at Milne as if she had never seen her before. The accusation could not have been clearer.
“No, Teth,” Milne snapped. “This is what has to happen, and you won’t make me feel guilty for it. We both knew that this life could not continue forever. There was never going to be an easy way out. We’ve backed ourselves onto a cliff and rather than stop we’ve just kept going until there’s nowhere even to stand. Ipid is proposing the only safe passage off that cliff. Trust me, it will be hard. It will be uncomfortable. It will be work. But the only alternative is to fall.”
Teth looked up from the floor where her eyes had been fixed. She looked hollow, emptied out. Her long limbs sagged as if she no longer had the strength to hold them in their joints. Milne could not ever remember seeing Teth so defeated, did not even know it was possible.
“I . . .” Teth tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. She looked again into Milne’s pleading eyes. “I . . . I have to think about this. It’s too much. I can’t think right now.” Milne reached for her, but Teth shook off her hands and ran up the stairs.
A moment later, she reappeared with a crude framed pack over one shoulder. She looked at Milne, and her face started to collapse. She reached down and brou
ght her much smaller aunt into a crushing hug. “I . . . I’ll be back. I promise,” she whispered. Then she ran out the door without so much as a look back.
“Tethina,” Counselor Torpy yelled after her, “you can’t. . . .”
He stopped when Milne placed a hand on his shoulder. “It is no use. She is gone, but she’ll be back.” Milne wiped the tears that were finally coming to her own eyes. The cough overtook her and she hacked for several moments. All she could think was how much she hated herself for what she had just done, but it was the only way to save her precious Teth. “Can you write a letter for me?” she asked the counselor when she could speak.
“Of course, I’ll need to return to my house for some paper and ink, but that is no problem. What do you need?”
“I want to send a response to Ipid, to let him know that Tethina has agreed to the ceremony.”
From Across the Clouded Range Page 7
