Wild Magic

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Pen hari woke cramped and stiff with her bladder distended, an ache throbbing over her ears, her tongue a dead mouse in her mouth. Mulimuli! Never again. The boat was moving slowly around a long shallow curve, the land on both sides of the River flat and dull, no green, just shades of brown. Even the few trees that grew on the banks were half dead, the remaining leaves thick-skinned and gray with dust, hanging limply from dessicated petioles. The sun was molten and red, only halfway up, the peaks of the Kondunis like jagged black teeth across the disk, but the day was already so hot and dry she could feel cracks opening in her skin.

She eased out of the slump, moving carefully so she wouldn’t wet herself. “Desa,” she croaked.

“Water, Zazi?” Desantro cleared her throat, shifted enough to put a gulp in the smooth glide of the boat.

“Water I need to get rid of.”

Desantro clicked her tongue, shifted again. “Hahlaz. Hai!”

“Gnuh.”

“That bunch trees, c’d y’ make it? Pull in over there?”

“Thought you in a hurry.”

“Hurry’s over. Hai, turn this thing.”

“Old fish landing round next bend. Trees ‘n a shack.”

Desantro snorted. “Gotcha. Do it.”

Hahlaz squatted by a ring of smoke-blackened stones, shaving curls off a piece of the shack’s door.

Penhari was so stiff she could barely walk. She’d been heaved out of the boat like a bale of cloth and now she had to lean on Desantro’s arm or she couldn’t have put one foot in front of the other. When they were behind the shack, she stopped. “This is enough. Help me out of these windings, will you? rm about to add heatstroke to everything else.”

Desantro took the cloak, snapped it out flat on the ground, then started unwinding the spare clothing from under the blouse.

As the wandering breeze stirred over her sweaty skin, Penhari sighed with pleasure. “Abey! It’s almost worth it just for this.”

Desantro chuckled, helped Penhari out of the underskirt; she didn’t comment at the weight, just dropped it on the rest of the pile. She rolled the cloak and its contents into a neat bundle, set it near the corner of the shack. “Can you wait a minute more?”

“If I have to.”

“We need some dry leaves for wiping. I know you used to water and towels, Zazi, but you roughing^. it now.” She went hurrying off into the scatter of trees.

Penhari leaned cautiously against the wall; it creaked but it held. There was a touch of satisfaction in Desantro’s voice. Talk about enjoying this. Should I worry? Nayo. She’s a kind creature, she wouldn’t do me harm. Discomfort doesn’t count. Or humiliation. Getting her own back. Or a piece of it. Wouldn’t I, too, if I were her? Oh, Jannam, do I ache. Hurry up, woman, I don’t think I can hold it any longer.

Desantro came hurrying out of the trees, her hands full of decaying leaves. “Here,” she said when she reached Penhari, “you crumple them like this. Make a wad outta them.” She grinned, her face flushed. “I learned that when I was hardly hatched. You do your thing and I’ll go see what Hahlaz has got up to.”