Galaxy's Edge Magazine: Issue 2, May 2013 (30 page)

Kai could see Bie’s throat pulse at that. “
I
know what you’re thinking,” Bie said. “I know why you came to find me. You’re telling me you want to go.” Bie’s gaze, as brown as the stones of the sea-bluff, drifted away from Kai down to the surging waves, then back. “But I don’t want you to leave.”

Kai knew this was coming, though ke had hoped that this time it would be different, that for once ker love and affection might emerge unmarred and free of the memory of anger or violence. But—as with most times before—ker wish would not be granted. Kai’s mentor JaqSaTu had warned ker of this years ago, when Kai was still bright with the optimism of the newly initiated.

J
aq handed Kai a paglanut and closed ker fingers around the thin, chitinous shell. “Each time, you will think your hands have been filled with joy, but you will be wrong.” Jaq told ker. Ke increased the pressure on Kai’s fingers, until the ripe nut had broken open. The scent of corruption filled Kai’s nostrils—all but one small kernel of the nut was rotten. Jaq plucked the good kernel from the mess in Kai’s hand and held it in front of ker. “You will learn to find the nourishment among the rot, or you will starve.”

Kai looked at the weathered, handsome face of Bie OldFather, at the creased, folded lines ke had caressed and licked in the heat of lovemaking, and ke saw that Bie’s love had hardened and grown brittle.

“I’m only a servant of VeiSaTi,” Kai answered softly and hopelessly. “BieTe, please, you don’t want to anger a god. I love you. My time here has been wonderful and for that I wish I could stay, but I have my duty.” Kai indicated ker own
shangaa
, dyed bright yellow from the juices of pagla root: VeiSaTi’s favored plant, that the god had spewed upon the earth so that all could eat. “Mas has her child. HajXa and CerXa will deliver soon. I have given your people all that a Sa can.”

A cloud, driven fast by the high wind, cloaked the sun for a moment before passing. The
brais
, the Sun’s Eye high on their foreheads, registered the quick shift in light and both of them crouched instinctively as if ready to flee from a diving wingclaw. Kai watched the scudding clouds pass overhead for a few seconds, then glanced back at Bie. His face was as hard as the Telling Stone, as unyielding as the bronze drill he’d used to carve it. “You should not leave yet,” he said. “Tonight, we will give thanks to VeiSaTi for the new child. You must be here for the ceremony.”

“And then I may go?”

BieTe didn’t answer. He was staring at the Telling Stone, and whatever he was thinking was hidden. He picked up the hammerstone from the ground and hefted it in his hand. “You’ll walk back with me now,” he said.

There didn’t seem to be an answer to that.

BieTe left Kai almost as soon as they reached the village, going off to examine the pagla fields. His mood had not improved during their walk, and Kai was glad to be left alone. Ke went into the TeTa dwelling. “MasTa?” ke called softly.

“In here, Kai.”

Kai slid behind the curtain that screened the sleeping quarters. “I’m so happy for you,” ke said. “May…may I see?”

MasTa smiled at Kai. Almost shyly, she unfastened the closures of her
shangaa
, exposing her body. Sliding a hand down her abdomen, she opened the muscular lip of her youngpouch and let Kai peer inside. The infant, eyes still closed and entirely hairless, not much longer than Kai’s hand, was curled at the bottom of the snug pocket of Mas’s flesh. Her mouth was fastened on one of Mas’s nipples, and her sides heaved in the rapid breath of the newborn as she suckled. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Mas whispered.

Kai reached into the warm youngpouch and stroked the child gently, enjoying the shiver ker daughter gave as ke touched her. “Yes,” ke sighed. “She’s beautiful, yes.” Reluctantly, ke took ker hand from the pouch and stroked Mas’s cheek with fingers still fragrant and moist from the infant. Ke fondled the tight, red-gold curls down her neck. “After all, she’s yours.”

Mas laughed at that. She let the youngpouch close, fastened her
shangaa
again, and reclined on the pillows supporting her back.

“Tired?” Kai asked.

“A little.”

“Then rest. I’ll leave you alone to sleep.”

“No, Kai,” Mas said. “Please.”

“All right.” Kai settled back into the nest of pillows piled in the sleeping room. For what seemed a long time, ke simply watched Mas, enjoying the way the sunlight burned in her hair and burnished the pattern of her skin as it came through the open window of the residence. As ke gazed at her, ke could feel that part of ker did indeed want to stay, to watch this child of kers and Mas and Bie grow, to see her weaned from the pouch when the weather turned warm again, to listen to her first words and watch the reflection of kerself in the new child’s eyes. Mas must have guessed what ke was thinking, for she spoke from her repose, her eyes closed against the sun.

“I know that you must leave. I understand.”

“I’m glad someone does.” Kai said it as unharshly as ke could.

Her large eyes opened, that surprising flecked blue-green that was so rare and so striking. A knitted covering tied around her head shielded her
brais
from the afternoon glare. “Bei loves you as much as I do. Maybe more. He told me once that you have made him feel whole. He’s afraid, Kai. That’s all. He’s afraid that when you leave, you’ll take part of him with you.”

“I’m leaving behind far more of myself than I’m taking,” Kai answered. Ke stroked ker own belly for   emphasis. “I’m leaving behind your child, and Haj and Cer’s. I’ve given you VeiSaTi’s gift. Now I must give it to others.”

“Why?” Mas asked. Her bright, colorful eyes searched ker face.

“Now you sound like BieTe,” Kai said, and softened ker words with a laugh. “I’m a Sa. I’ve been taught the ways of the Sa. After I leave, other Sa will come here.”

“And if they don’t?”

“You’ll still have children,” Kai said, answering the question ke knew was hidden behind her words. “With BieTe alone.”

“I had three other children before you came,” Mas said. “Only one lived, a male. Bie sent him away.” Mas averted her eyes, not looking at Kai, and her skin went pale with sadness. Kai’s own brown arms whitened in sympathy. “The others…well, my first one lived only a season. The other, a female, was wild and strange. She never learned to talk, and she was fey. She would attack me when I was sleeping, or kill the little meatfurs just to watch them die. A wingclaw took her finally, or that’s what BieTe told me. I…I found it hard to mourn.”

“Mas—” Kai leaned forward to hold Mas, but she bared her gums.

“Don’t,” Mas said. “Don’t, because you’ll only make me miss you more. You’ll only make it harder.” Mas brought her legs up. Arms around knees, she hugged herself, as if she was cold. “The sun’s almost down. Bie will be starting the ceremony soon. I need to sleep, so I’ll be ready.”

“I understand,” Kai said.…
the smell of the rotten paglanut, breaking in ker hand
…“I understand. I…I’ll see you then.”

Reaching forward, ke patted the youngpouch through her
shangaa
. “Sleep for a bit. Rest.” Ke rose and went to the door of the chamber. Stopping there, ke looked back at her, at the way she watched ker.

“I love you, MasTa,” ke said.

She didn’t smile. “I love you also,” she said. “But I wish I didn’t.”

.

.

VOICE: Anaïs Koda-Levin the Younger

.

“Clean Euzhan up and get her into a bed,” I told our assistants. “She should be waking up in about ten minutes or so—let Hui or me know if she isn’t responding. Hayat, we’re going to need more whole blood, so after you get Euzhan comfortable, round up three or four of her mi, da, or sibs and get some. Ama, if you’d take charge of the cleanup.…”

As they rolled Euzhan away to one of the clinic rooms, I went to the sink and scrubbed the blood and thorn-vine sap from my hands. Hui shuffled alongside me, using the other spigot. When I’d finished drying, I leaned back against the cool wall, frowning through the weariness. Hui shook water from his hands, toweled dry, and tossed the towel in the hamper as I watched his slow, deliberate motions.

I knew what he was going to say before he said it. We’d been working together for that long.

“You did what you could, Anaïs. Now we wait and see.” Hui stretched out one ancient forefinger and tapped me gently under the chin. “We can’t do anything else for her right now.”

“Hui, you saw how close that was.” I shivered at the memory. “The descending oblique was nearly severed. If those claws had dug in a few millimeters deeper…”

“But they didn’t, and Euzhan will fight off infections or she won’t, and we’ll do what we need to do, whatever happens. Ana, what did I tell you when you first started studying with me?”

That finally coaxed a wan, grudging smile through the fog of exhaustion. “Let’s see…‘Is that expression normal for you, child, or does catatonia run in your family?’ Or how about: ‘I’m afraid to let you handle a broom, much less a scalpel.’ Oh, and I couldn’t forget: I’m sure you have
some
qualities, or they wouldn’t have sent you to me. Let’s hope we manage to stumble across them before you kill someone.’” I shrugged. “Those were some of the milder quotes that I can recall. I was sure you were going to send me home and tell my family that I was hopeless.”

Hui snorted. The wrinkles around his almond eyes pressed deeper as he grinned. “I very nearly did. You have a good memory, Anaïs, but a selective one. You’ve forgotten the one important thing.”

“And what was that?”

I could see myself in his dark eyes. I could also see the filmy white of the cataracts that were slowly and irrevocably destroying his vision. Not that Hui would ever complain or even admit it, though I’d noticed—silently—that he’d passed nearly all the surgery to me in the past year. “I once told you that no matter how good you were, you are only a tool in the hands of whatever
kami
inhabits this place. You’re a very good tool, Anaïs, and you have done all the work that you’re capable of doing for the moment. Be satisfied. Besides, it’s no longer you that I’m hounding; it’s Hayat and Ama.” His forefinger tapped me under my chin once more. “Come on, child.”

“I’m not a child, Hui.”

“No, you’re not. But I still get to call you that. Come on. Dominic will be going apoplectic by now, and we can’t afford that at his age.”

Hui was right about that. As we came through the doors into the clinic’s waiting room, half of the Allen-Shimmura family surged forward toward us, with patriarch Dominic at the fore. I avoided him and tried to give a reassuring smile to Andrea and Hizo, Ochiba’s other two children, both of them standing close behind the bulwark of Dominic.

“Well?” the old man snapped. He was as thin as a thorn-vine stalk, and as prickly. His narrow lips were surrounded by furrows, his black, almost pupilless eyes were overhung by folds. His voice had gone to wavering with his great age, but was no less edged for that. The grandson of Rebecca Allen, he was one of the few people left of the third generation. My Geema Anaïs once described Dominic as being like a strip of preserved meat: too salty and dry to decay, and too tough to be worth chewing. “How is she?”

I noticed immediately that Dominic was looking at Hui rather than me, even though the patriarch was aware that I had been in charge of the surgery.

Hui noticed it as well. He was wearing what I thought of as his “go ahead and make your mistake” face, the expressionless and noncommittal mask he wore when one of his students would look up quizzically while making an incision. Hui leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. “Anaïs did the surgery. All I did was assist.” He said nothing more. The silence stretched for several seconds before Dominic finally sniffed, glared at Hui angrily, and turned his sour gaze on me.

“Well?” he snapped once more.

“Euzhan’s fine for the moment.” I found it easier, after the first few words, to put my regard elsewhere. I let my gaze wander, making eye contact with Euzhan’s
mi
and
da
, and favoring Elio with a transient smile. ‘’We cleaned up the wound—nothing vital was injured, but we had to repair more muscle damage than I like. She’s going to need therapy afterward, but we’ll work out some schedule for that later. Actually, she should be waking up in a few minutes. She’s going to be groggy and in some pain—Hui’s already prepared painkillers for her. Dominic, I’ll leave it to you. It would be good if there were some familiar faces around her when she comes out of the anesthetic. But no more than two of you, please.”

Dominic’s grim expression relaxed slightly. He allowed me a fleeting, brief half-smile. “Stefani, come with me. KaWai, take the rest of the Family home and get them fed. Tell Bui that he’s been damned lucky. Damned lucky.” With those abrupt commands, he left the room with his shuffling, slow walk that still somehow managed to appear regal. The rest of the family murmured for a few minutes, thanking me and Hui, and then drifted from the clinic into the cold night. Eventually, only Hui and myself were left.