Shadowkill

9

“You let her run wild, Matja. Wild. Out all times of the night, by herself, no one watching her. The Jili should be whipped for neglect, hasn’t the girl learned anything? What if she’s not virgin? What if your own daughter has got herself a Brush bastard? Who’s going to marry her then?”

Matja Allina was nursing Paji and staring out the window, her shoulder turned to Polyapo. She twitched like a horse trying to shoo off a troublesome fly. But this fly wouldn’t be twitched away and wouldn’t stop its buzzing. She sighed, shifted around so she was facing Polyapo, moving carefully so she wouldn’t disturb her baby. “Ingva’s no fool.”

“Any girl’s a fool when her blood is up.”

“No. You don’t understand her. She’s got a cool head, my girl has. She knows what she wants, and she’ll get it.”

“Not if word of how she behaves gets out. Even if she is still virgin, who’ll believe it?”

“What’s so wonderful about being wed to some grizzler three times her age? That’s what she’s got to look forward to and you know it, Polyapo Ulyinik. With my history of stillborn sons and daughters, a second wife or a third is all she can hope to be. Hope!”

“What else is there? Poor relation in some other woman’s house? No, running to the Brush. That’s it, isn’t it. That’s what you want for her. Running to the Brush. You didn’t have the nerve to do it yourself, so you want her to.”

“I want her to have what she wants.”

“She’s a child. She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“You’ve said your say, Polyapo Ulyinik. I don’t want to hear any more on this subject.”

“If the Arring knew what you’re doing, he’d be furious.”

“Arring Pirs and I know each other’s thinking quite well. And if I find you bothering him with this when he needs all his mind set on staying alive, you’ll see such anger you’ve never seen before, Polyapo Ulyinik. Must I remind you, it’s only by my forbearance you are not-chal. Hear me, Polyapo, continue to annoy me and you’ll find yourself swearing the oath. Now, get out of here and consider your future carefully.”

Polyapo pinched her lips together and left the room.

Paji whimpered, his milk supply interrupted by the knotting tension in his mother. “That woman, AH! that woman…” Allina rubbed the baby’s back. “Oooh, baby, ooo aaah, lovey yum yum. She drives me wild sometimes. Yes, baba-lirri, Paji-ji, yes my lovey. Kizra, come play me that funny little song, um, that stepchild song, I need something to wash that bitch from my blood.”

Shadith brought the arranga and a cushion across the room, settled herself and began picking out the song. “Step easy, Stepchild,” she sang…

Step easy, Stepchild

Watch where you walkin

It’s wolfdays, Stepchild

Bourghies in your garden

As the days grew longer and hotter, Matja Allina napped through the middle of the afternoon, leaving Shadith on her own.

The Grays closed around her.

What is this?

She threw the question at the grayness and got no answer, but she didn’t really need one. Her memories were back, the good and the bad. The Grays were closing round her. When she allowed herself to think, she told herself:

I will die here, still dithering.

It wasn’t as bad as the time in Ginny’s ship when she saw no way out and just started to die.

She knew the way out. She just couldn’t scrape up the energy to take it. She couldn’t plan, she couldn’t go on preparing for the run to Nirtajai, the escape she kept putting off and putting off-all the reasons she found for not leaving were good reasons, logical reasons, but fake.

She slept as much as she could, spent what waking energy she had not-thinking, waiting for the Grays to pass. They would, she knew that, with interference or without, the Grays would go away. Until then, all she could do was stay alive and wait.

Then the tumaks hit them.