Angelica (2 page)

She had not gone, and she had later come to approve of that hard-won decision. Her mother had died that fall, needing every minute of care her daughter could provide. Her father, so dependent on the woman he had lived with for thirty years and by whom he had had three children, seemed as lost as a blind man or a man stricken by dumbness, incapable of caring for himself. Susannah had been mother and sister and caretaker for her father and brothers. She had been
so busy that she only had time to wonder, once or twice a day, what other serious women Dathan of the Lohoras might be charming into laughter while the months spiraled past.

But then the Tachita clan fell in with the Morosta tribe and traveled with them for two months, and Susannah's older brother went courting himself. Soon enough, he brought home a shy but smiling Morosta girl who slipped into their tent as easily and happily as if she had lived with them her whole life. She took over some of the cooking chores, she teased Susannah's father out of his grief, she played with the younger boy and made moon-eyes at the older. Susannah knew that, if tardy spring ever arrived again, if she lived long enough to attend another Gathering, and if the sweet-voiced Lohora man came wooing her again, she could now leave her father's tent guiltlessly and begin her life as an adult woman.

She had worried about it, though. One did not have to know Dathan well to realize that he was a habitual flirt, a lover of women, a carefree man with such charisma that he could not be held to ordinary standards. He might only have been playing with her, that last spring when he kissed her by moonlight; he might have loved her at the time but, during the intervening year, forgotten her pensive smile and severe cheekbones. He might have fallen in love elsewhere—more than once—with a hundred different women, all of whom were dreaming of him at night in tents crowded with family members. Susannah would not count on him remembering her when they arrived at the Gathering in the spring.

That winter had been hard, and the spring had come so late that even the patient elders of the tribe had wondered if, this year, Yovah had forgotten the turning of the seasons. Travel across the ice-hard mud of the lower plains had been slow, and the Tachita clan had been among the last to make it to the Gathering. As always, there were others ready to welcome them, to take their horses, to direct them to a campsite, to offer food or any assistance the weary travelers might require.

And there was Dathan, standing a little apart from the initial greeters, stationed there at the outskirts of the great camp, as if waiting for each new tribe to walk up so he could
scan their faces and commit them to memory. When, in all the bustle of arrival, Susannah finally noticed him standing there, she saw that he had spotted her long ago. His gaze was fixed upon her face; he was not smiling. She felt her body go cold, then hot. She felt her blood run with burning ice. She felt, in that one long exchange of glances, every contour of her world change.

That had been three years ago. She had left with the Lohora tribe and had followed them ever since. A few times, the erratic and easygoing travel pattern of the Lohoras had brought them in contact with the Tachitas, and then she would spend a few happy days with her father, her brothers, and her two new nephews. But most often, her visits with her family were restricted to the times of the Gathering, when all the Edori clans came together for a brief period of celebration. There, they all shared news, and recited events of the past year, and lifted their voices in joyous worship of the great god Yovah. Those days were too short, those days with her family and the members of her clan, but Susannah was not prepared to mourn the life gone by. She was too happy in this one.

The river was breathtakingly cold. Susannah flung herself into it before she could think about it too long, and surfaced, gasping for air. How could a southern river be this chilly this late in the season? Still, once she was used to it, Susannah did not mind so much, for the summer afternoon was hot and the contrast of temperatures felt good against her skin. She dove under the water again, soaping her body, soaping her hair, and rinsing herself off in the cold, clear water.

Once she was both clean and dry, she turned to the task of washing out the soiled clothes from the past few days. A few of Dathan's were mixed in with hers, which made her frown a little, but she went ahead and washed them. He had, after all, been hunting three times this week with the other men of the clan. He may have been too busy to attend to his own washing. Often, Susannah found Tirza washing out some of Eleazar's shirts, and when Susannah taxed her with it, Tirza merely smiled.

“Oh, I do not mind a few other pieces of clothing in my
pile,” Dathan's sister said. “When I was a young girl, and my mother was sickly, I washed for the whole tent! Ten of us! But it's an easy enough chore, and I make up songs while I'm soaping the clothes, and when I get back to the camp, someone else has always made dinner. And you know I am just as happy if I do not have to cook! So the arrangement suits me fine.”

And Dathan is Dathan,
Susannah thought to herself now as she scrubbed the dirt off of a particularly fine blue shirt that belonged to her lover. As well scold the crows for scavenging as to scold Dathan for skimping on his duties.

It was late afternoon by the time she finally returned to the campsite, a bundle of wet clothes in her arms. She pegged these out to dry behind the tent, then went to investigate the status of dinner.

Anna and Keren, Eleazar's sisters and two of the others who slept in his tent, were stirring a pot over the fire. “That smells good!” Susannah exclaimed. “How lucky I am to live with women who are such excellent cooks!”

It was something she said often, but her words always made the other two smile. Anna was a good ten years older than Susannah, a shy and quiet woman who had lost a lover five years ago and never taken another. She had followed him to his clan, but returned to Eleazar's tent upon her lover's death. Keren was the only flighty member of Eleazar's family, a small-boned and pretty girl who never forgot how lovely she was and who had broken many hearts at the Gathering and on the road. Tirza could not wait for her to fall deeply in love and follow some other man's clan, but so far she had shown no signs of wanting to leave the comforts of her own family. Still, she did her share of the work and was generous with possessions, when she had any, so Susannah could not help loving her.

“Yovah's hand guiding you,” said Anna, who was so pious that even a mock-serious question would elicit a religious response. “But we were fortunate also to have him bring you to our tent.”

Keren ignored all this. “Susannah! Are you coming to Luminaux tomorrow? It will be so much fun.”

Susannah stole a piece from a loaf of bread cooling beside
the fire. “I have nothing to sell or barter,” she said. “And I promised Amram I would go berry-picking with him tomorrow.”

“You can take Amram berry-picking any day,” Keren scoffed. “Besides, he will want to go to Luminaux. Everyone is going. You do not need to have anything to sell! You just need to have eyes that want to look around and see how beautiful the city is.”

“I do love Luminaux,” Susannah agreed.

“And you could sell something,” Anna said. “You have finished that embroidered shirt you were working on all winter. That would fetch a nice price in the marketplace.”

“Yes, but I made that shirt for me!” Susannah exclaimed, laughing. “I wanted something beautiful to wear at the next Gathering.”

“Make another one,” Keren said. She, of course, had no idea of how many hours went into such a project, since she would never sit still long enough to attempt such a thing. “The next Gathering is more than six months away.”

“Well, perhaps I'll bring it with me, and see if there is anything in Luminaux so precious that it makes me want to trade my shirt,” Susannah decided. “Is everyone really going?”

“No, of course not,” Anna said with a repressive look at her sister. “I think there are ten or eleven who said they wanted to go. Bartholomew and all of his tent. Dathan and Keren. Thaddeus and Shua. And a few of the children. I, for one, am not up to the long journey there and back in a single day, and I know Claudia is not, either. We will make a feast dinner so that you can eat heartily and tell us of all the wonders you have seen in the Blue City.”

“I will wear my emerald dress,” Keren said dreamily. “And my long gold earrings. I will look quite beautiful as I wander between all the blue buildings of Luminaux.”

Anna looked over at her sister in sharp irritation, but Susannah burst out laughing. “That is the true beauty for you,” Susannah said, her voice admiring. “One who judges how she will look as she stands in a green meadow or beside a gray mountain. What dress to put on and how to style her hair. . . .”

Anna was frowning still, but Keren smiled, completely unoffended. “One has to be aware of these things,” she said.

“One has to be aware of when she's making a fool of herself,” Anna said. “Be glad it is only Susannah here to hear you say such ridiculous things.”

“
Only
Susannah,” Susannah repeated, but she laughed again. “Do not mind her for my sake,” she said to Anna. “I will be happy to go to Luminaux and see how beautiful she looks there.”

Susannah stayed near the campfire, helping the sisters cook and filling the remaining hours of the afternoon with idle chatter. Claudia came over to borrow some spices and agreed with Anna that Susannah should sell her embroidered shirt. Bartholomew dropped by on some pretext, though Susannah suspected it was merely to speak to Anna. He was a big man, strongest of all the Lohora tribe, and not given to much laughter. But they all looked up to him, and took their problems to him, and if there was a quarrel in the clan, he was the one most likely to solve it. His lover had left him two years ago, following a man of another tribe, and he had grown even quieter since that defection. Though all the Lohoras privately agreed that he was better off without her, since she had been as mercurial and unreliable as Keren, without Keren's ready smile and willing hands. Susannah hoped that he had noticed that Anna was fashioned the way a woman should be for a serious man. Or rather, she was pretty sure Bartholomew had realized it, and that he was waiting for Anna to make the same discovery.

“What time do you leave for the Blue City in the morning?” Susannah asked him, after he had tasted the stew and pronounced it very good. “My tentmates have persuaded me I should join your party.”

“Excellent! We will be glad to have you,” Bartholomew said. “I had hoped to leave early, for it will take us two or three hours to get there, and I would like to have a little time to shop and buy.”

“Early?” Keren said innocently. “But—Susannah—could you rise with the sun, do you think? This morning you lay abed till almost noon.”

“Yes, and Dathan—wasn't he sleeping late as well?”
Anna asked, her eyes wide and guileless. “Maybe neither of you will be able to rise in time to join Bartholomew's party.”

Bartholomew was grinning, but Susannah blushed furiously. “Yes! I am sure! I am quite rested from all of my sleeping and will be ready to join you as soon as dawn breaks!” she said. “And as for Dathan—well, I will kick him a few times when I rise, and if that does not wake him, he can stay behind.”

They were all laughing at this. “Bartholomew, I am sure there are delicious stews brewing over your own fire, but we would be happy to have you here at ours,” Keren said. “You know my sister is a very good cook.”

That was generous of her, Susannah thought. But then, Keren had sharp eyes for love, and she had no doubt seen what Susannah and Claudia and many of the other Lohoras had seen. Bartholomew shook his head regretfully. “No, my sisters have already finished the evening meal, and I know they are expecting me,” he said. “But perhaps in the morning—a nice hearty meal to fortify me against the day's journey—”

“We would be happy to feed you in the morning,” Anna said. “I don't want to go on this trip into the city, but I'll make sure you set off well fed.”

Bartholomew turned to look at her. “You won't come with us? Is there anything I can pick up for you in the Blue City while I am there?”

Anna frowned and stirred the pot. She was blushing a little. “I am sure you have plenty of commissions to carry out for your sisters. No need to worry about me,” she said.

“Nonsense. One can never have too many friends for whom to be doing favors,” Bartholomew said.

“Purple dye. Didn't you say you wanted some of that?” Keren asked. “The other day, when you were sorting your threads.”

“Yes, some purple dye would be welcome,” Anna admitted, a little embarrassed by the attention. “But not if it is any trouble to track down! Only if you come across it in the market.”

“I will find it if I can,” Bartholomew promised. “And I will be happy to sit at your fire tomorrow morning and eat.”

When he left, Keren and Susannah exchanged meaningful glances, but Anna busied herself with the meal. There was no time to talk of women's idle concerns anyway, because Dathan and Amram and Eleazar were back from their day's excursions. Tirza was close behind them, fresh buckets of water in her hands. The night was suddenly filled with much talk and merriment, as a night should be. Susannah sat next to Dathan in the circle of light created by the fire, and ate her excellent stew, and smiled in the dark for happiness.