by Wendy Orr
‘I need a favour,’ he says abruptly.
‘The god-luck boy needs a favour?’ asks his brother.
Luki ignores the sarcasm.
‘The girl they call No-Name . . .’
‘You’re too holy to spit at her yourself and you want us to do it?’
Luki punches him. It feels good. ‘No! I want you to help her.’
‘But she’s cursed – and you want us to help her?’
‘Why?’ asks his mother.
Luki’s taken a long time to work out the answer. They won’t help unless they know she saved him, but he can’t admit he put his life in danger.
‘I tripped on a training run . . .’
His brother snorts.
‘I banged my head when I fell.’
‘Are you hurt?’ his mother shrieks, forgetting the bull dancer’s honour as she feels his head for lumps.
‘I’m fine! I only blacked out for a moment. But I landed by a viper . . .’
‘Where was your guard?’
‘He wasn’t far ahead!’ Luki says desperately, seeing his mother ready to attack. ‘It didn’t matter because the girl called the snake away.’
Stunned silence. Luki has never heard his brother be quiet for so long.
‘You really did bang your head,’ his mother says finally. ‘Because whatever you think you heard, you mustn’t say that. Only the Lady can call snakes.’
‘But she did!’
His mother kisses his forehead, holding his head firmly between her hands. ‘Luki, even the bull dancer doesn’t challenge the Lady. Promise you’ll never tell anyone else what you’ve told us, and we’ll help the girl.’
Helping her isn’t easy, because Aissa’s not to be found. In the end they leave Luki with three big bunches of grapes in a goatskin bag. He adds a stolen poppy cake and cheese from the kitchen, and waits to see her.
But if it’s not easy to find Aissa, it’s even harder for Luki to hide. At dusk the market is gone and the square nearly empty, but people come out of the shadows to be close to a bull dancer – to press his shoulder, touch his hand, soak up his god-luck.
Until finally Luki realises: the only way to escape his power is to use it.
‘I want to be alone,’ he says, facing the sanctuary with his hand on his heart. No one’s going to interrupt a bull dancer while he’s praying – and they can’t know the only thing going through his head is, Go away! Get out of here before Aissa comes back!
They obediently disappear. Luki slips the bag under the boulder, and stands a little longer. It feels good to be alone, and even better to know that he can make it happen. He’s so still that Aissa doesn’t see him as she sidles along the wall. She jumps in surprise.
Luki feels as proud as if he’s snuck up on a wild deer. Aissa glares at him.
‘There’s a bag under the rock – for you, not the snake.’
Aissa’s glare turns to suspicion.
‘It’s not a trick!’ Luki says, hurt. ‘It’s from my mother, for saving me.’
But he knows that his mother’s bag of grapes is not enough. Tomorrow the days will start getting shorter. Winter will come, and Aissa can’t survive it under that rock.
15
THE COLD NORTH WIND
Squint-Eye has been watching too. She’s afraid she’s made a terrible mistake in banning No-Name. Sometimes, seeing the girl slip by with a parade of cats behind her, wearing a cloak that looks suspiciously like fur, it seems that she’s actually given the cursed child her freedom.
Squint-Eye has never tasted freedom. She’s never longed for it; ruling the other servants is all she wants. What could be better than the power to beat and punish the same way the older servants used to beat her? What’s more rewarding than seeing the fear in her fellows’ eyes?
But she’s old now and slow to move, and last year she’d seen that the other servants weren’t as afraid of her as they should be. She’d needed something to show her authority.
She had never hated No-Name. The child was a good worker; not talking back was a bonus – and Squint-Eye’s seen worse things than dragonflies in the kitchen. But the drama of banishment was exactly what she needed. Squint-Eye is feared again.
The problem is that No-Name herself doesn’t seem to be as punished as she ought to be. She’s hungry and uncomfortable, but she’s free of the chores that the other servants complain of; she’s got a sort of home and a house snake to bless it. And she’s not as alone as she was in the middle of the servants; Squint-Eye can’t prove it, but she’s sure that someone is helping her. Worst of all, sometimes when she thinks no one can see her, No-Name stands like a free person. That’s the reason that Squint-Eye does hate her now.
Without admitting that she was wrong, Squint-Eye needs to regain control over the banned girl. Her allies are the twins – who can follow and spy where she can’t – and the winter. She just needs to wait and the weather will do the rest.
But this morning the north wind is blowing cold and sharp, and Squint-Eye is suddenly afraid that she might not survive the winter herself. It would be unbearable if she died before seeing No-Name beg to return.
So she waits on her bench, pretending to doze in spite of the biting wind, until Aissa tries to slip past. Lashing out with her stick, furious when she misses, she shrieks, ‘No-Name child, you think you can go where you please! But you belong to the Lady the same as those cats – steal what’s hers, and it’s the cliff for you or anyone who helps you!’
Aissa runs.
‘Half-One!’ Squint-Eye bellows. ‘Follow her! Don’t come back until you find her.’
Half-One shivers. She’s never been as brave as her twin.
‘I’ll go,’ says Half-Two.
Squint-Eye’s so angry now that her lips are frothing. No one is ever going to defy her again. ‘I called Half-One! And don’t think you can try your tricks with me: you’ll sit at my feet and not move till she’s gone!’
Aissa is faster now
than when she was a privy-girl
and sometimes she wishes
she could race against Nasta
because she might win.
Half-One is strong
but not a runner
and Aissa knows she can beat her.
Sprinting to the sea path
through dry chamomile flowers
Aissa sees
Nasta’s mother
waiting at the top of the cliff
like a trap
and Aissa the rabbit
running into it.
So Aissa loops wide
around the town
and across the hills,
but Half-One guesses,
goes straight up the path
and sees Aissa there –
chest heaving, breath puffing –
but Half-One is fresh
and ready to chase
so Aissa keeps running
up to the forest
because surely the twin
will give up there.
But Half-One
has seen Squint-Eye’s rage
and that is scarier than the forest,
so she goes on
though her heart is pounding
harder than Aissa’s.
Gasping and stumbling,
chasing through trees
to the mountain crags
with their rocks and caves,
until finally Aissa is faster,
so far ahead
she can’t hear Half-One follow
and can sink to the ground
to catch her breath.
Then the wind
catches it too –
that cold north air
swelling from breeze to gale,
bringing rain
that stings like ice.
Aissa’s tunic
is as drenched as if
she had fallen in the sea
while her fur cloak
waits safe and dry
at home.
/> The wind howls so strong
she can hardly walk,
the rain lashes so hard
she can hardly see,
but she hears from somewhere
goats bleating,
ble-aah, ble-aahing
and remembers Lanni the goatherd,
‘Our summer cave is nearby,
if you need help.’
Aissa doesn’t know how
to ask for help
but this might be
the time to learn.
She turns into the wind,
pushing against it,
pausing to listen
for the goats to guide her
till she smells the smoke
of a good wood fire
and sees the narrow mouth
of a mountain cave
with a gate of branches
to stop the goats from leaving –
and a barking dog
with Lanni beside him.
‘Wolf girl!’ calls the goatherd,
pushing the dog back
and the gate open.
‘What are you doing?
You’ll die out there,
come in to the fire.’
‘No-Name!’ says Onyx.
‘We don’t want her here.’
‘Parsley’s rescuer,’ says Lanni.
‘If you don’t want her, you can go out.’
So Onyx is quiet,
while little Sammo
shows Aissa his sling,
‘Next time,
I’ll get the wolf like you did.’
Aissa tries to smile
but hasn’t had much practice
or reason
for smiling
and her teeth are chattering too hard
for her lips to move.
Lanni pulls her
close to the fire,
throws a goat fleece on the ground
and wraps another
around trembling shoulders.
‘Sit and warm up;
you are our guest.’
As she warms,
as her shaking stills,
Aissa sees past the fire
to the shadows of the cave –
not a cave under the lip of a rock
like hers –
but half as big as the Hall,
with room for the flock,
bundles of green branches
for them to eat through the storm,
gates to hold them
back from the fire,
stacks of cheeses,
bags of milk becoming yoghurt,
and Lanni in the milking pen
filling her wooden bowl
with warm milk for Aissa.
‘Drink,’ she says, and Aissa does,
then curls like Gold-Cat
in the rug
and sleeps,
even though it’s still morning
because it’s been a hard one
and just for the moment
she is warm and safe.
When she wakes they feast her
with cheese and grapes
and barley cakes
till Aissa’s belly
feels round and full
and a little bit sick.
‘You’re lucky,’ says Lanni,
‘When the storm stops
we’ll be gone,
it’s time to take the goats
home for the winter –
a day later,
and all you’d have found
would be a cold
and empty cave.
But I wish I knew
why you were on the mountain alone,
as if you were running
from a lion.’
Aissa nods yes,
though Half-One is no lion.
‘Everyone chases No-Name,’ says Onyx.
‘We don’t,’ says his sister.
‘Because she chases wolves,’
says Sammo.
All the rest of the day,
while wind and rain howl,
Lanni plays her flute,
the brothers sing,
sometimes they dance
around the fire
and after a while
Aissa does too,
feet stamping
in time with theirs,
hands clapping
just like theirs
as if she is one of them.
And she wishes the day
would never end.
Or even the night
as they sleep by the fire
wrapped in fleeces,
with the smell of goats,
stale milk and smoke –
the safe smell of home
before the raiders.
So Aissa dreams and thinks,
‘I could stay here all winter
and no one would know.’
But the goats would be gone
and so would the herders;
Gold-Cat would miss her,
and worst of all,
Squint-Eye’s threat is real:
a push off the cliff
for anyone who takes her
away from the Hall.
The next morning, the wind is still strong and cold, but the rain is gone.
‘Time to go home for the winter,’ says Lanni.
‘Wolf girl could come with us,’ Sammo suggests.
Lanni and Aissa shake their heads, even before Onyx says, ‘She belongs to the Lady.’
Sammo is too excited about seeing his parents again to argue.
Lanni milks the goats; they all drink as much as they want, and pour the rest into goatskin bags to be jolted into curds on the long walk home. The cheeses are packed into panniers strapped across four billy goats’ shoulders; they eat the last of the grapes and a barley cake each.
Aissa folds her fleece to stack with the others but Lanni wraps it around her shoulders again. ‘It’s yours,’ she says, clasping Aissa’s hands between her own strong, warm ones. ‘Be well.’
Little Sammo repeats it, and Onyx gives her a round hard cheese from his pack. It feels like gold in her hands, heavy and hard, and it only just fits into the pouch on her belt. Lanni smiles, but Aissa feels warm tears on her face and doesn’t know why.
Then Onyx lifts the gate away from the mouth of the cave, the goats crowd out to graze their way across the mountain, the dog races around in hopes of chasing a stray . . . The herders are on their way home.
Aissa stands watching them, hand on heart in thanks and goodbye, until they’re out of sight and she is chilled right through her new fleece.
Down the mountain,
sling in hand –
if Aissa had a voice she would sing
against the wind.
Through the woods out to the meadow,
she stops for wild grapes
smashed and fallen in the storm
and hears a sound like moaning
further down the hill.
Aissa creeps forward
with a rock in her sling
for whatever threatens,
and finds a body in a puddle
below a rock,
as if it had skidded and fallen
in the pouring rain.
The body is Half-One
and she looks dead
though if she’s moaning
she must be alive.
She doesn’t hear Aissa
clapping her hands
and when Aissa touches her arm,
the twin’s skin is as cold
as the sharp north wind.
Aissa has never touched
Half-One before
though she’s felt the slap of the hand
often enough.
Half-One doesn’t know
it’s Aissa touching –
she turns in trust
as if to her sister.
So Aissa grabs her shoulders,
hauls her out of the puddle,
and
rolls her in
the goatherd’s fleece,
because Half-One
didn’t have time
for a cloak either
when she ran after Aissa.
She is heavy and floppy,
bigger than Aissa,
but Aissa sits her up,
and slides a smashed grape
into her mouth.
The girl’s eyes open,
blank and confused;
they don’t look
like Half-One’s eyes
and when Aissa tries
to pull her to her feet,
Half-One flops down
and starts to cry.
So Aissa pushes
another grape in her mouth,
then runs to the forest
to find a branch for a crutch –
and with that
gets Half-One to her feet.
Stumbling down the mountain
together,
Half-One with a stick in one hand
and Aissa on the other.
Once she looks at Aissa
with a moment’s hatred
as if she knows her,
then the light
goes out of her eyes
and she sleepwalks again.
Past the ancient oak,
onto the singing path,
but still a long way to go
and the twin is weakening
step by step,
too weak to use her crutch,
so Aissa is carrying her weight,
pushing, dragging,
with pain in her side
and her own knees trembling –
when Half-One falls again,
sliding off Aissa’s shoulder,
face flat to the ground,
Aissa can’t lift her.
Pushing, pulling,
shoving, rolling;
she doesn’t know why
she doesn’t want Half-One to die,
and the twin is so still,
her head and arms so floppy
when Aissa pulls her
that maybe it’s too late.
If Aissa is found
with dead Half-One
they’ll say it’s her fault
and she’ll be thrown off the cliff.
Maybe it is her fault,
but she only meant to run away.
Then Half-One groans
and Aissa tries once more
to lift her
and can’t.
She rolls her to her side
so Half-One doesn’t drown
in the mud of the path,
tucks the goat skin around her
and runs –
she doesn’t know how
or who she can tell –
but she must find help
or Half-One will die,
for real this time.
Luki! thinks Aissa. He will trust
enough to follow –
but now she sees Half-Two
