Crystal Heat

3

When Worm woke a second time, a pretty, smiling girl was bending over him, washing his face with a cool cloth. She fetched a cup of water, lifted his head and helped him drink.

“Delala?” he said.

She giggled. “Ngar ngi,” she said. “Delala. Kau tkoy ak?” She touched his brow, repeated, “Kau tkoy ak?”

“Worm,” he said, guessing at her meaning, though it seemed obvious enough.

“Warrum,” she said and giggled again. “Ak moi er a tiktut,” She patted his knee. “Nga mengii.”

He watched her trot from the room, listened to the soft pat of her bare feet as she went somewhere to do something. His whole body hurt and he was so weak he couldn’t stand. It was enough to make anyone sink, especially when he’d done it to himself, coming here like this without even wondering why the Spy took off without Lylunda when all she had to do was put out her hand and take her.

Mort and Xman. He’d killed them. No way to get around that. His father was going to get hoiked out of his place because who could defend the Stead now? Cousins was all and cousins don’t have the same blood bonds. Cousins betrayed you all the time. His eyes burned with tears that wouldn’t stop coming. He was shamed, but he couldn’t stop that crying.

Delala came in, clicked her tongue, and began talking at him. He didn’t understand a word of it, and that just made the misery worse. She helped him sit up and empty his bladder into a pitcher of some kind.

It was odd, when he was wrung dry below, he stopped leaking from his eyes. She washed his penis and his hands, eased him back onto the bed, pulled the sheet over him, and trotted out again carrying the pitcher with her.

When she returned, she lifted his head and made him drink something hot and stinking. He almost threw it up again, but by the time she’d got the mugful of slop down him, the woe had retreated somewhere over the horizon. It was still there, but he was too numb to feel it.

After she went out for the third time, he lay staring at the ceiling trying not to think. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry, Fa. I’m sorry, Mort. I’m sorry, Xmae. You’ll have to get on however you can.” Another sigh. He let heavy eyelids droop shut and in a moment was asleep.

Early in the morning, a little over a month after leaving Keredel, Lylunda looked up from the mezu she was washing and saw a strange lander go whispering by overhead, its shadow slipping like a bird across the beronta, a bird with stubby wings and a flared tail.

“The woman has come for you.” Menget’s voice. She hadn’t heard the Drummer approach, but he was very light on his feet for such a big man.

Lylunda was annoyed; though she tried not to show it. Here was another case of the Bond stripping her privacy from her; what one Pandai knew, they all knew, as if the Bond thought something and those thoughts were echoed in all Pandai minds. “I didn’t expect her so soon. You sure?”

“Yes. We’ll be making landfall in three hours if the wind stays steady. The island Oreallin. The woman will be waiting for you there.” He set his hand lightly on her head. She could feel the warmth of it through her hair. “Omel oma, I don’t know what to think about this. You aren’t-happy with us and you make the Bond itch with your fighting against it. Yet you are enough of the Bond that I’m afraid…”

“She knows about that. She said she might have a way.”

“If you can go, we’ll miss you, Luna. You’ve taught us as much as you’ve learned and we’re grateful for that. Don’t forget us. Or your drumming. Though I’ll ask you to leave the drum behind. It is of the Bond.” He tapped her head lightly and went away.

Lylunda bent over the scrub board, rubbing the mezu up and down, up and down it, working absently, her eyes fixed on the water beyond the rail. Around her she could hear babies crying, women and girls gosSiping as they repaired sails and prepared food for the one large meal spread out at mid-afternoon, men gossiping as they mended nets and worked at the constant maintenance it took to keep the beronta in good order, boys chasing each other across the deck and through the rigging-the thousand sounds large and small that she’d got used to in the months she’d spent on the Remeydang.-

Already she felt separated from them. And impatient to be gone. The things she’d found pleasant a day before were suddenly so restrictive that she was choking on them. As she wrung out the mezu and got to her feet to hang it on the line stretched from the cabin overhang to the rail, she murmured to herself, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, naked I go forth from this second womb. And the only thing I’ll miss is my drum.”