skull. Carefully, she moved one arm and then the other forward to pull herself straight—she thought perhaps she could get up.
But the sight of those arms—stranger’s arms—stopped her. They bore hideous designs, black against her pale skin in the light of Keyu’s Eye. She stared at the designs. Keyudakkau spiraled around each arm, their wings wrapping over her shoulders and their heads biting at her neck. Their tails entwined with the symbol of Keyu’s Eye on the back of her hands. On her palms, the keyunu had drawn the bleeding mark of sharsha.
She couldn’t see the rest of her body—and she didn’t want to. Without looking, she knew that she looked like the sharsha she’d seen fed to the tree. Every ache on her body indicated another mark. No place on her body didn’t ache.
Hopelessly, she licked the palm of one hand. The marks did not come off. She lowered her face to the dirt and sobbed.
I’m bad. I’m evil, and I’m bad, and now I’m ugly, too. No one will ever want me.
* * *
A day and another and yet a third, Seven-Fingered Fat Girl and her band of tagnu scavenged through the ruins of the giant city, searching for food. They listened to the warbles and howls of the kellinks that fought and ate their own dead outside the city walls. At night, huddled in one or another of the huge, domed buildings, they told stories to cover the groans of the wind through the abandoned streets and the growls of then-empty stomachs. The city was dry-bone bare, foodless. Only birds, hovies, and a few small rodents inhabited it—only grass grew in the spaces between the stones. No one could live forever on grass and rodents and hovies.
“We will have to leave,” Seven-Fingered Fat Girl told them on the dawn of the fourth day. “We must get past the kellinks and return to the paths of the Silk People. If we stay here, we will starve.”
Dog Nose, gaunt and weary, said softly, “We were starving on the paths of the Silk People. That is why we left.” He fingered the arrow points he’d chipped from the local stone and looked thoughtful.
“We are starving faster here.”
“Dead is dead.” Dog Nose straightened and walked to the entryway of the round-walled building and looked out. With his back to the rest of the tagnu, he said, “Sooner or later, the kellinks will finish eating their own dead and go off hunting for new meat. When they do, we can go over the wall and bring down beasts for ourselves. We can make good arrows in this place, and you can find enough thorns and feathers and raouda poison to make your darts.”
He turned and faced them. “It is not a good place, but it is better than the paths of the Silk People. Here we do not sleep in the rain. And no Keyu grow here.”
“A city with walls to keep out the gods—it is a beautiful dream, and I must rip my heart in half to let it go.” Fat Girl stood, and, eyes almost on a level with Dog Nose’s, said, “Do you think I haven’t seen the good stone? Do you think I haven’t thought of a roof over our heads when the great rains fall? But hard cold comes to the high stone mountains, and when it does, the birds and hovies will all fly to the lowlands. All the squirrels and chervies will hide away. Ice will fall from the skies like rain and bury the ground. And what will we eat then? Each other?”
“Maybe we could steal the trade goods of the Silk People,” Toes Point In offered.
Seven-Fingered Fat Girl nodded. “Yes. And the Keyu would send monsters from the jungle to eat us. The Keyu love the Silk People.”
“I won’t go back down there,” Laughs Like A Roshi said. He tightened his arms over his thin chest and glowered. “I won’t let Runs Slow go there either. This is a better place.”
Fat Girl sighed. “Your remmi is going to be your death, Roshi. You might survive on your own—but not with her.”
Roshi lunged toward Fat Girl as if he would strike her, then stopped himself. He face was flushed. “She’s not my
But the sight of those arms—stranger’s arms—stopped her. They bore hideous designs, black against her pale skin in the light of Keyu’s Eye. She stared at the designs. Keyudakkau spiraled around each arm, their wings wrapping over her shoulders and their heads biting at her neck. Their tails entwined with the symbol of Keyu’s Eye on the back of her hands. On her palms, the keyunu had drawn the bleeding mark of sharsha.
She couldn’t see the rest of her body—and she didn’t want to. Without looking, she knew that she looked like the sharsha she’d seen fed to the tree. Every ache on her body indicated another mark. No place on her body didn’t ache.
Hopelessly, she licked the palm of one hand. The marks did not come off. She lowered her face to the dirt and sobbed.
I’m bad. I’m evil, and I’m bad, and now I’m ugly, too. No one will ever want me.
* * *
A day and another and yet a third, Seven-Fingered Fat Girl and her band of tagnu scavenged through the ruins of the giant city, searching for food. They listened to the warbles and howls of the kellinks that fought and ate their own dead outside the city walls. At night, huddled in one or another of the huge, domed buildings, they told stories to cover the groans of the wind through the abandoned streets and the growls of then-empty stomachs. The city was dry-bone bare, foodless. Only birds, hovies, and a few small rodents inhabited it—only grass grew in the spaces between the stones. No one could live forever on grass and rodents and hovies.
“We will have to leave,” Seven-Fingered Fat Girl told them on the dawn of the fourth day. “We must get past the kellinks and return to the paths of the Silk People. If we stay here, we will starve.”
Dog Nose, gaunt and weary, said softly, “We were starving on the paths of the Silk People. That is why we left.” He fingered the arrow points he’d chipped from the local stone and looked thoughtful.
“We are starving faster here.”
“Dead is dead.” Dog Nose straightened and walked to the entryway of the round-walled building and looked out. With his back to the rest of the tagnu, he said, “Sooner or later, the kellinks will finish eating their own dead and go off hunting for new meat. When they do, we can go over the wall and bring down beasts for ourselves. We can make good arrows in this place, and you can find enough thorns and feathers and raouda poison to make your darts.”
He turned and faced them. “It is not a good place, but it is better than the paths of the Silk People. Here we do not sleep in the rain. And no Keyu grow here.”
“A city with walls to keep out the gods—it is a beautiful dream, and I must rip my heart in half to let it go.” Fat Girl stood, and, eyes almost on a level with Dog Nose’s, said, “Do you think I haven’t seen the good stone? Do you think I haven’t thought of a roof over our heads when the great rains fall? But hard cold comes to the high stone mountains, and when it does, the birds and hovies will all fly to the lowlands. All the squirrels and chervies will hide away. Ice will fall from the skies like rain and bury the ground. And what will we eat then? Each other?”
“Maybe we could steal the trade goods of the Silk People,” Toes Point In offered.
Seven-Fingered Fat Girl nodded. “Yes. And the Keyu would send monsters from the jungle to eat us. The Keyu love the Silk People.”
“I won’t go back down there,” Laughs Like A Roshi said. He tightened his arms over his thin chest and glowered. “I won’t let Runs Slow go there either. This is a better place.”
Fat Girl sighed. “Your remmi is going to be your death, Roshi. You might survive on your own—but not with her.”
Roshi lunged toward Fat Girl as if he would strike her, then stopped himself. He face was flushed. “She’s not my
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