by Clayton, Jo;
The tears stopped after a while and she leaned her head against the railing, glowing stiff as the last of the night passed. When the sky began to green in the east, she went downstairs to the kitchen to see what she could scratch together for breakfast.
Chapter XI
The hare ring faced inward, silent and implacable, individual hares rising at intervals to their hind feet, then returning to a crouch, giving the white ring an eerie movement as if the herd were a single animal breathing in great gulps.
Just inside the flickering psi-screen, bands of boys ran about, hooking hares through the barrier and knocking them on the head. Others darted off with the bodies, taking them to the shelters for the women to cook.
In the streets groups of men lounged about, the groupings swelling and diminishing as restless individuals came and went. The air was thick with a smoldering anger. One man bumped into another and cursed him. They fought, flailing at each other until one staggered off leaving the other tumbled in the street. In another street a dead man was stretched out, steam rising from the blood pooling on the beaten earth.
The tension in the barracks was like steam, thick and hot. The noise was deafening and unending. Bands of boys ran continually through huddled groups of women and old people, sometimes scuffling in play, sometimes exploding into blindrage and battering each other and everyone around. Occasionally they were called to order by some adult still possessing authority. Like the groups of men outside, the gangs split and reformed, the mob growing greater than the individual members, taking on a personality different from many of its components. Wilder and wilder, their humanity slipping rapidly away, the boys gradually took control of the shelters, terrorizing each other and everyone else inside.
Umeme leaned on the windowsill of the Tembeat’s guard tower, fascinated and horrified by the disintegration proceeding below him. He was beginning to worry. Men kept passing the Tembeat and the Chwereva complex, muttering ominously, sometimes shaking their fists and yelling obscenities. The groups were getting larger as the hours passed. And closer to the edge of a blindrage explosion. He lifted his head and stared out at the hare ring. He could almost smell the psi-screen burning under the pressure. The flickering was increasing in frequency as the hours passed. He shivered and pulled back, wishing his time were up. Three hours is getting to be too long, he thought. He looked up at the sun and sighed. Half his watch left. He began to pace back and forth from window to window. As he walked, he practiced his lessons, struggled to distance the abrasive emotions intruding from below.
Faiseh grinned down at Manoreh. “In one piece again, huh?” The two men clasped wrists, then Faiseh dismounted. “Any problems?”
“Got a hole where my belly should be. The two of you forgot food when you packed Aleytys off with the car and me.”
“‘Easy to fix. Come around here.”
Aleytys moved slowly away from them. Back on the porch she probed at the presence once more. It was aware of the new arrivals; she could feel the curiosity, the sharpened focus of its interest. She felt more than ever like bait on a fishhook.
In the courtyard Faiseh dug in his saddlebag. He pulled out a round, fiat loaf with edges of meat and cheese spilling out and handed it to Manoreh, then fished out another for himself. Talking in low voices the two men climbed the steps and went to sit on the bench to eat.
Grey finally slid from his saddle. He’d been watching her since his arrival, taking in her change of clothes and the fall of her hair. Aleytys rubbed at her nose, acutely conscious now of his eyes and very glad she’d healed the betraying scrapes, scratches and bruises from last night’s rutting in the barn. He knows something happened, she thought. His eyes are too sharp and he knows me too well.
He came up the stairs quickly, quietly, a hunting cat on the prowl. His boots made no sound on the gritty planks of the porch. He stopped beside her. “Ready?”
“What?” The question startled her. She’d been so intent on her own reactions she’d briefly forgotten the Hunt.
He lifted a hand impatiently, then dropped it back. He was full of sharp edges this morning. Poised to move even when he stood motionless. “Lee?”
“Sorry. Thinking about something else.” She brushed the hair back from her face and he grimaced, knowing she used the gesture to buy time. Aleytys chuckled. “Slow down, Grey. We’ve got a nibble. Our fish has been poking around us since sunup.” She rubbed her back against the pillar. “Out there, vaguely northeast. Give him half a chance and he’ll strike.” She frowned at the two Rangers on the bench. “Do we need them?”
Grey prowled past her, unable to stand still any longer. “Part of the bait. Camouflage. Know you don’t like that True though. Time to get back to the ship. Our friend takes you. I come behind and land him. Right?”
Aleytys stroked along the line of her collarbone, stopping to rub at the warm spot where the tiny implant nestled. “That’s why Head had this thing rushed.” She tapped the warm spot. “What about your end? Still working?”
“Checked it on the way here. Distance and direction both sharp.” His eyes were bright with mischief. “Don’t trust us yet, do you.”
“Being bait makes me nervous.” She looked away from him toward the presence. Waiting for us. For me, she thought. She started shivering, her amusement fading. “Grey, don’t get lost. This thing scares hell out of me. Given half a push I’d start running and not stop till I had a dozen star systems between me and that … that spider out there.” She touched her hair again, then shrugged. “All right. I had to say it.” She left him and walked briskly to Manoreh, her bare heels thumping defiantly on the planks.
“You feel that?” She jabbed her finger toward the waiting presence. His answering nod was unnecessary. His uneasiness matched hers. “We’re targets,” she said. “Bait, I told you. Stay with me and he’ll take us both.”
“What choice do I have in honor?” He brushed at the crumbs on his shorts. “Let you go alone? No!”
“Don’t be a fool. Grey will be following. Stay with him. I can take care of myself.”
Manoreh tapped his head. “I feel him. So he’s pinned me, too. Want me to betray your partner?”
“Damn!” She turned to Faiseh. “What about you?”
Faiseh’s bushy eyebrows arched. “Never was as strong a FEELER as Manoreh. Good thing now. Haribu don’t even see me. Hunter Grey going back to the ship?”
“Grey?”
He was close behind her. “I see where you’re heading.” He smiled at Faiseh. “Coming with me?”
“Right.” He stood and stretched. “We better get started.”
Hands on her shoulders, Grey turned, Aleytys to face him. “Give us till sundown before you start riding. I want to be close to the ship. And.… take care?” Without waiting for an answer he followed Faiseh down the steps and slid into the front seat of the groundcar beside him. Minutes later the whine of the motor was drowning in the clacking of the wimbony pods, then even that sound died away. Aleytys stood still until the spot of warmth under her collarbone faded. Grey was out of her range now and she was left alone with Manoreh. She grimaced in Haribu’s direction. “Father of confusion,” she muttered.
“What?”
“Never mind.” She went to sit down beside him. “Do you have any idea why this tie exists between us?”
“None. Chance, I suppose. Like resonating crystals. Haribu’s our striker. When he’s gone maybe the link will dissolve.” He frowned. “I never heard of anything like this before. Usually communication cuts off after a little distance is covered. Out of sight, out of touch.” He leaned back and brooded.
Haribu seemed puzzled, expecting them to move on, and when they continued to sit, talking occasionally, he jabbed at them again and again, as the sun left the mountains behind and slid up into the greenish sky.
After a long silence, Aleytys said, “Your wife is lovely.”
Manoreh resented her words; she knew that immediately. He didn’t like her talking about Kitosime. �
�Yes,” he said curtly.
Aleytys smiled, wiggled her toes, then yawned. “Point taken. Off limits.”
Reluctantly at first, then with words flooding out, he capitulated to her interest and his own worry. “Kitosime. I don’t understand her. She’s changed. She was always difficult. Wanted me to settle down, leave the Tembeat, take up my father’s Holding.” He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “This land. She wanted to get away from Kobe. I didn’t realize. I never could talk to her. Never tried much. We quarreled. She was drugging herself. Fezza seed, I think. Hodarzu FEELS. We’ll have to start training him soon, take him to the Tembeat, don’t know how she’ll take that, she hates the Tembeat. What’s she going to do alone at the Holding? She’s never done anything for herself except endless embroidery. How is she going to manage?”
Aleytys put her hand on his arm and snatched it back as the link intensified almost beyond bearing. “Don’t be stupid, Manoreh. The Kitosime I saw in that car will do what she has to do to survive. If she has a little time and isn’t forced to react on instinct, she’ll figure out what she doesn’t know. Believe me, it’s not that hard. I was raised in a house a lot like this one. Like Kitosime I was forced out of a familiar pattern of life into something totally unknown to me.” She shivered. “Leave or be burned at the stake as a demon. The choice wasn’t hard to make. I went into a wilderness alone with no training whatsoever. And I survived. Kitosime has her familiar house around her. But she won’t fit back into the old life once this is over. You’ll have to face that, Manoreh.”
He was startled and stared at her, his dismay flooding her. He felt her hurting and was immediately sorry, then annoyed as he felt her impatience.
“Don’t worry, she won’t be like me.” Aleytys chuckled. “You make very clear how much that thought charms you. However, I warn you, my friend, if you thought she was difficult before, just wait until she gets a taste of independence.” She shook her head. “It’s habit-forming.”
Haribu began probing again, attracted by the sudden burst of strong emotion.
They sat in silence, side by side, shutting themselves away from Haribu and partially from each other. The sun crept higher and the air warmed.
“Do you have children?” Manoreh asked suddenly.
The pain was immediate and intense. She hadn’t thought of Sharl for a long time; it did no good, only made her sick and aching with the loss of her baby. Manoreh’s uncomprehending remorse broke into her pain. She sucked in a deep breath. “No problem,” she said. “I have a son. I haven’t seen him for almost four years now. May never see him again. It’s a long, complicated story. He’s living with his father. He think I’m dead. He was asleep beside his half brother last time I saw him. My baby. I.…” She pushed at her hair. “I couldn’t keep him. He almost died because of me. And there are still … my life is too complicated … unsteady. He’s better off with his father. My cousin is his stepmother, a loving, gentle woman. Brothers and sisters to laugh and play with. A quiet healthy life.” She looked down then jumped to her feet and ran lightly down the stairs. By the Mother Well she turned and faced him, “Forget that. It’s over and there’s no changing what is and must be. And I’m hungry. Any more of those sandwiches?”
Manoreh came slowly down the steps, frowning, confused. “I thought you and the other Hunter were wed.”
Aleytys ran her fingers through her hair and laughed. “No indeed. He’s my boss.” She danced to the patient faras and began working at the straps holding saddlebags shut. “I’m a poor, downtrodden apprentice, Manoreh, trying to earn my independence. Umph.” She touched the rough texture of a round loaf. “Don’t you believe in wrapping these things?”
“He doesn’t act like that.” He took the sandwich and held it while she brought out the last of the loaves.
“You’re misreading. Watch that, friend.” She sank her teeth into the bread and tore off a mouthful. Then walked slowly back to the porch enjoying the taste of the food.
“I don’t understand.”
Aleytys swallowed. “You’re an empath and a strong one. But you let your rearing skew your reading.” She grinned at him. “I’m not complaining, mind you. If you knew how many times I’ve fallen over my own feet for the same reason.”
A sudden flare of anger from him that held a touch of the madness of blindrage informed her she’d made a mistake with her sympathy. He wasn’t prepared to accept fellowship with a woman. “Sorry,” she said, “but you see what I mean.”
He stalked away, leaving her standing alone at the foot of the stairs. She saw him charge through the arch and vanish around the wall. “Well.” She climbed the stairs and sat down on the bench. “You’d better start adjusting a little, my friend, or Kitosime will shock you out of your feeble mind when you get back to her.” She took another bite from the sandwich and leaned back, chewing thoughtfully.
Chapter XII
The wildings came shyly into the courtyard. Two boys and a girl. Dirty faces, starved bodies, wearing a few rags. Kitosime stood on the porch and watched them sidle around in the morning shadows like small brown ghosts. Fragments of emotion blew across the court. Curiosity. Hunger. Fear. Uncertainty. Desire. And most of all a wistful hunger for affection and mothering.
Kitosime sat down on the top step and wondered what she should do. They were wildings. She didn’t want Hodarzu around wildings. But they were children. And hungry. They drew together and huddled against the Mother Well, seeking support in physical contact. She leaned forward. “Don’t be afraid,” she said, trying to keep her voice soft and welcoming. She smiled at them. Children. Her eyes lingered on the girl with a fascination she was reluctant to admit to herself. Girls weren’t supposed to FEEL or go wild. But here was proof, if she’d needed it. She’d suppressed her own ability to FEEL, instinctively sensing its danger. She smiled again. “You must know I won’t hurt you.”
Wide eyes watched her intently. The boys were bolder. After a few minutes they were grinning at her and edging toward her. The girl remained crouched by the well, watching her, suspicious, yet desperately wanting to trust, needing the warmth and affection she feared.
More urgent than all the complex and contradictory emotions there was the children’s demanding hunger.
“Wait.” Kitosime walked slowly back across the porch, then fled through the house to the kitchen. The quick-bread she’d attempted earlier sat on the table. A little uneven in spots, but edible. Cheese and meat on a plate waiting for her own first meal. She hadn’t tried anything more complicated yet. Hodarzu was still sleeping. She worried briefly about what to feed him. Better start working on that soon, she thought. Then she shrugged. Later. She cut open three loaves, fought with meat and cheese, hacking off ragged chunks. She put the crude sandwiches in a small basket, added a crock of milk and three mugs.
Wondering if the wildings had understood her enough to wait, she walked carefully through the house, carrying the basket and the crock. She paused just inside the door to order her emotions and quiet her breathing. Then she pushed it open and walked back to the steps.
They were still there, across the courtyard, watching her. She settled herself on the bottom step, holding the basket on her knees and looking at the children. At her smile they edged closer, eyes fixed on the basket. She rested her hand on the basket’s edge. “Yes, I have food for you. I suppose you don’t remember your names.”
The two boys came a bit closer. She could feel them wanting the food but still afraid of her. The girl sidled nearer but stayed several steps behind the boys. Kitosime could feel her terror and her cramping hunger. All the pain of her own childhood was there in the dirty, meager flesh of this small girl. Kitosime looked from one silver-green face to the next, feeling a growing excitement as an idea struck her. “I’ll give you names.”
They eyed her warily, understanding none of the words and confused by her emotion.
The tallest boy was closest. She pointed at him. He shied but stayed where he was because
there was no threat accompanying the gesture. “You will be Amea,” she said firmly. “Amea.”
He stared at her, no comprehension in his indigo eyes.
Kitosime sighed and turned to the smaller boy. “I’ll call you Wame.” He was darker green than the other two, with only a hint of silver where the bone was close to the surface of the skin. There was a lively intelligence in his round face, but the name meant nothing at all to him. “Wame,” she repeated. She waited. Again no response.
When she spoke to the girl her voice was softer, more coaxing. “You will be S’kiliza. S’kiliza. S’kiliza. Ah, child, understand me. S’kiliza.”
The girl shifted uneasily, then she came slowly up and curved her skinny body against the largest boy’s side.
Kitosime touched the crock of milk beside her, eyes thoughtful. “You spoke once,” she murmured. “Not so long ago.” As she placed mugs by the crock, the boys edged yet closer; the girl came reluctantly with them, still clinging to the largest boy. Kitosime lifted one of the round loaves. “Amea, this is for you.”
Both boys rushed toward her, grabbing for the bread.
She dropped it back with the others and hugged the basket tight to her breasts. “No!” She shook her head. Once again she looked from one to the other, demanding their attention. “No,” she said more softly. “Before you eat, you’ll have to answer to your names.” Pointing to each in turn, she named them. Again and again she named them. Amea. Wame. S’kiliza. Their painful confusion and their clamoring hunger touched her like pats of fire, but she kept control of herself and repeated the lesson with iron patience. The sun crept upward and warmed the air in the courtyard as the children squatted on the painted tiles and struggled to understand what was being demanded of them.
